The Restoration of Taforashia
by Catwho
Summary: Twenty years after the events of Evolution-R, a mysterious visitor from Seyruun brings hope to Pokota, and perhaps something more. Wacky hijinks ensue. PokotaxOC, with other traditional pairings. A new chapter appears!
1. Chapter 1

**The Restoration of Taforashia**

_Written for dqbunny at Livejournal for himitsu_santa 2010_

The main hall of the castle of Taforashia was large, but not airy. It had been built in the style of castles of an older time. The walls were thick and heavy, with wooden flying buttresses lining the cavernous interior to bring the height of the hall to almost twenty meters. The furnishings were solid but old and tired. Their designer had perhaps known that the kingdom could fall on hard times, and had opted for sturdy wood with few decorations that would not wear out. These heavy benches lined the central aisle, and held equally aging courtiers, their lined faces reflecting the sorrow and hope that filled the kingdom.

At the end of the aisle, which was lined with red carpet - a new installation, a concession to necessity for appearances - there was a dais with the royal throne. Here sat King Taforashia, himself also aging rapidly. It had been twenty years since the kingdom was awakened after a decade long magical slumber, and the people cured of the terrible Duram plague that had nearly destroyed them. The lost decade had cost them, but the price would have been far higher had they not been cast under a spell by Rezo the Red Priest. The great sage's actions had saved the kingdom and the people within it, even if Rezo's motivations had not been quite pure.

A newcomer to the kingdom might not notice the second throne on the dais, unless it was pointed out. The throne, which was nearly identical to the great throne upon which the king held court, was of such a miniature size that it might be mistaken for a toddler's chair, or even a toy for a doll. The latter description was not that far off. The second throne belonged to the prince, the heir to the kingdom, who due to a variety of circumstances, inhabited the body of a stuffed animal.

No matter - he was the legitimate heir, and it was through his courage and bravery that the kingdom of Taforashia still stood at all. The kingdom owed him its very existence. He had sacrificed his body to save them, and had worked tirelessly through the lost decade to find Rezo and rescue them all. But for him, and for the royal family of Taforashia, there had been no happy ending.

As far as they could tell, he was immortal. He had not aged or matured much. The physicians of the temple said that his spirit had been frozen in time, and without the influence of a physical body's hormones, he would not ever grow to a true adulthood. Not that he had a body that could really be grown. At best, he could be repaired and even augmented, but his form was comfortable enough that they dared not experiment too much.

Prince Posel felt that he had grown a little mentally, but he knew they were right - by all rights he should be approaching forty years old, but his voice had not changed, and there was a certain lack of maturity about his reasoning. His father was quite sure he would be an excellent ruler, and the people accepted that much, but there was a private sorrow that the Taforashia line would end with Posel, and a serious concern about the potential wars of succession should anything befall the enchanted heir.

All in all, despite his official age and date of birth, he was really not that much older in his mind than he was when he had lost his body. Ten? Fifteen, perhaps? Twenty, if one was pushing it. Yet there were things that one should have experienced at those ages - the heady rush of first love, a mild sense of rebellion, the desire to push off into one's own world - that Posel had not felt. He would probably never feel them.

For him, every day was a day to exist, but not a day to really live. He hadn't felt alive in the truest sense of the word since his body had been surrendered to sleep by Rezo.

Today had been a typical day in the court. The aging officials, most of whom would be retiring in a few brief years, had argued with each other over trivial things.

One said, "We must focus our resources on restoring the levee that was worn down."

Another countered, "Nay, twill hold up for another year. Instead we should till more fields so we can recover the reserves we lost last year during the drought."

Debate ensued, and after listening to their arguments, the king came to his own conclusions.

"It is winter time." He nodded to the doors near the front, which had opened to let in a visitor to the castle. That person was speaking with the guards, and if he was important, would be introduced in turn. "Let us focus on tilling the fields for the new few months, and then switch to shoring up the levee before the spring floods arrive."

The courtiers mumbled among themselves about the wisdom of their ruler. Prince Posel looked out on them sternly from his tiny throne, nodding in agreement with his father's decision, but no one really paid attention to him. He couldn't really blame them - how could they see him on his tiny chair?

There was a minor commotion near the front doors of the great hall. The visitor stood there, clad in a long white cloak and hood, shielded against the winter weather outside. The person was rather short in stature, and something about the cut of the cloak seemed to indicate a feminine air. She talked softly to the doorman at the post in the atrium, who in turn nodded to her before turning to face the interior of the hall.

"A messenger from the Kingdom of Seyruun has arrived!"

Pokota sat up in his chair, interested. Seyruun and Taforashi were close friends, as far as kingdoms went, and they frequently sent couriers back and forth, usually with glad tidings, but sometimes with sad ones, such as the death of old King Martin a few years ago. The courier kept her face cloaked as she walked up the hallway, her stride firm, her bearing straight and tall. It was only after she reached the end of the aisle just before the king that she carefully took off the hood of her cloak.

For a moment, Pokota felt his heart leap to twenty years ago, but then he realized he couldn't be right. Princess Amelia of Seyruun had settled down and married and had many children. Although this girl looked much like her, her hair was too light and was cornflower blue. Her eyes, however, shone with the same confidence, and her bust-line more or less gave her away as a member of the Seyruun royal family. Pokota noticed this last detail with an uncritical eye - without hormones, there was nothing in his body to react to the famous bosom that could not quite be hidden even beneath a thick winter cloak.

She _had_ to be the oldest daughter of Amelia. There was no other explanation. Azalia, he seemed to recall. He had been genuinely happy to hear of her birth many, many years ago, just a short time after Amelia and Zelgadis had invited him for their wedding. He had declined at the time, not wanting to leave the sanctuary of the kingdom.

She knelt gracefully before the king. "Greetings from the Kingdom of Seyruun. Does the Kingdom of Taforashia welcome this messenger?"

His father gestured to her to stand again. "Yes, you are most welcome."

She smiled, and the chill of recognition struck Pokota again. She was the spitting image of her mother, aside from a mole on her cheek.

"Thank you," she said, her voice low and pleasant. "I am the Princess Azalia dis Morgan Seyruun." She executed a flawless curtsy to the king, and then turned to Pokota and gave him one as well.

He liked her immediately, for that simple gesture alone. He was so used to being ignored that for someone to recognize him of her own free will immediately impressed him.

The court was abuzz at this announcement - she was no mere messenger, but a visiting royal. The Minister of the Court immediately dispatched a few pages out to the rest of the castle - no doubt there would be a feast in her honor, and some poor chambermaids would be harassed to make sure their best guest bedroom was ready for her use.

She continued, ignoring the hubbub her last statement had caused. "I come bearing a letter from my kingdom. "

"Our allies in Seyruun have something to say? I pray it is good tidings." The king spoke carefully. Sending a member of the royal family was very unusual.

She smiled again, and glanced at Pokota, who stared unabashedly at her, still entranced by the similarity between her and her mother. "It is, your majesty, but this note is not for public ears. Is there a place we might retire to discuss my news in private? "

The king drummed his fingers on the armrest of his throne, obviously curious. "Of course. We may retire to the library at your convenience." To his courtiers, he said, "Court is adjourned."

"Wait," she said, and then turned to Pokota. "Prince Posel, you must also come, but no one else. This is a matter of secrecy for now."

She must surely have been coached by her mother, a forethought for which he was grateful. It was the sort of thing Amelia would have remembered and impressed upon her representative.

"Is it a matter of great urgency?" the king asked. "Or would you rather rest for now?"

She waved him away, although there were dark circles under her eyes and she surely must be exhausted from traveling so far. "I'm fine, and this is a matter of utmost urgency. The only thing I may say here is this: 'What was once done, cannot be undone. But what was done, can also be done anew.'"

With that cryptic sentence she fell silent, and allowed herself to be escorted by servants to the side hallway off the great hall, down to the heart of the castle.

* * *

The central library of the castle was the last room before the great building bled into the temple beside it. Their hallways and layers in their respective east and west wings were intertwined. If one knew the way, one could travel easily from the castle to the temple without setting a foot outside, but many of the doors were sealed with magic, and few knew the necessary enchantments to open them.

A large table was in the middle of the room, surrounded by rows and rows of books on all sides. Taforashia's library held unique tomes from almost a thousand years, and was one of the last few truly great things the kingdom could lay claim to.

The courtiers had hastily set up Posel's modified high chair, but Azalia and the king were escorted to the normal comfortable chairs that lined the table.

Once they were settled, the king leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table before him. "So what brings you here, young lady?"

She looked at him, her face serious but also earnest. "It is a long story, your majesty. Perhaps you should read this letter first, Prince Posel."

She handed the letter over to Pokota, who accepted it gingerly. It bore the seal of the royal family of Seyruun, but there was a smaller script on it that was indicative of the Prince Consort - Amelia's husband, Prince Zelgadis.

He broke the seal, wondering what was so important that Zelgadis would send him a letter entrusted to his own daughter, rather than a normal carrier pigeon or magical courier.

A glance at the first few lines gave him his answer.

He actually heard himself gasp. "This is...!"

Azalia smiled knowingly, and then turned back to face the king. "As you know, my father Prince Zelgadis was turned into a golem by Rezo the Red Priest."

The king nodded. "I had heard such things."

Pokota looked up from the letter to comment, "It was so hard for me to believe Rezo could do such a thing..." But it really wasn't. Rezo's methods and motives were only altruistic when they suited his purpose. He could heal the sick and save the blind, but in the end, all that he did was toward a selfish end. He had saved Taforashia, but he had stolen Pokota's body. His legacy was tainted by his final act of self-interest - knowingly allowing himself and the spirit of Shabrinigdo to be resurrected, all so that he could see the stars once more before traveling onto the next world.

Azalia leaned forward onto the table, her chin in her hands, giving away her youth. She couldn't be much older than sixteen. "Such was the power of Rezo's spells that no magic in the world could undo the spell. So my father sought an alternate solution."

Pokota held up the letter, which was long and covered many pages. It didn't matter; he had read enough to know the answer. "He found one, didn't he?"

Azalia smiled again, her eyes glittering with joy. "Aye. It happened not too long ago, when he was inspired to try something new. He decided to start with the source - Rezo. It turns out, Rezo's mage name came from a peculiar variety of magic he studied for his senior thesis at the magical academy, not just his clothing. Red magic has been all but lost to time - it isn't part of the broad category of white magic or black magic."

The king's eyes widened. "Red magic?" Although the ability to use magic ran through the bloodlines of most of the monarchs of the continent, King Taforashia had never taken the time to study it, unlike his son, who had been recognized as a prodigy early on.

"The categories of magic we use are inexact anyway." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, in another gesture that echoed her parentage. She had gone from mirroring her mother's unbridled enthusiasm to channeling her father's cooler attitude. "Red magic does not call upon the power of the gods or the demons, nor does it call upon the elements. It calls upon energy from another world entirely."

Now Pokota was curious. "How is that possible?"

Azalia shrugged. "How is any magic possible? There are four worlds, after all, and we don't really know what the others are like."

Pokota stared at the letter, a tendril of hope beginning to spring forth from within him. "Zelgadis said that Rezo told him there was no cure for his condition."

"Rezo said no cure exists in _this_ world. Red magic... is not of this world." Azalia glanced at her fingernails. "I honestly can't say I understand it completely myself. My father has tried to explain it, but even he doesn't know quite how it works. White magic and black magic call upon the powers of the gods and the demons - red magic calls upon the gods or demons of another world."

The king nodded, accepting that answer. "May I see the letter?" he asked his son.

Pokota reluctantly passed the letter to his father, who broke out a pair of reading glasses. There had been nothing in there that was something he needed to hide, even though the letter was addressed to Prince Posel directly and not to the king.

"You'll want to look at the third page, your majesty," Azalia said, helpfully.

The king shifted the papers and read, one eyebrow raising up, his lips pursing, at one point sounding out a difficult word. "Ah," was all he said.

"That is our offer." Cool Azalia left, and she returned to the mirror image of her mother, her eyes shining in excitement at the prospect of justice. "In exchange for copies of your library here, we will provide you with the method to restore Pokota to his human body."

Pokota held his breath. The library, the sacred treasure of Taforashia, had until then been the envy of every other kingdom. It was not something to be bargained lightly.

But his father didn't hesitate. "We accept without conditions," he said firmly.

Azalia clapped her hands in delight. "My own services will require their own fee - the whole process will take me about a month of my time, and and I am highly skilled mage in my own right." She had the audacity to wink at Pokota as she said this. "I promise to be reasonable in my demands.

Pokota's tiny tendril of hope wilted a little. The library was all they had to barter; Taforashia itself was broke. "But we have no money!" he cried.

She waved away that concern, just as she had waved away the king's offer for rest: She was very casual, for a royal. "Oh, don't worry, my payment will be but a trifle. I am a collector, you see."

The king looked up from the letter again. "Oh, of what?"

She looked away, perhaps a little embarrassed. "Odds and ends. I know what I want when I see it. I will ask for just three objects from your castle, and I can assure you, they will be things you won't really miss."

Pokota's hopes began to rise again. "Are you absolutely sure this is going to work, Princess Azalia? I know Zelg- Prince Zelgadis tried for many years, but not even Rezo was able to give him the cure."

Her face turned serious again. "Yes, this absolutely works. My father has the ability to change back and forth between his golem form and his human form any time he wishes now."

* * *

After that stunning pronouncement, Azalia had said she was tired and wished to eat and rest a bit before they continued their discussions. The king had sent her to the guest room with a bevy of maids, who had taken her travel-stained clothing and given her a bath and hot food and a freshly pressed dress that had belonged to Pokota's mother. Due to the distance between the kingdoms, she had not been able to Ray Wing the entire way, and so she had opted for the more conventional method of horseback. Even so, the journey had taken her almost a week, and she had hidden her exhaustion due to the gravity of the message she bore.

They had held a minor feast in her honor, and she had appeared at dinner in the dress. She was shorter than his mother had been, and a bit pinker, as were all the folks from the southern parts of the continent, but she wore the elegant dress well, and she had gone from a casual messenger to a proper lady in the space of a few hours. Her hair was shoulder length and a simple band of gold wrapped around her head to indicate her royalty. She wore no jewels, and Pokota got the impression that she was a practical sort who eschewed unnecessary ornaments.

After dinner, she had put on a set of borrowed mage work robes, and insisted on being shown to the laboratory where she would be working on this huge undertaking.

Pokota had been tasked with showing it to her, as the king was often too tired to stay up much past dinner.

She was discussing the experiment. "The issue, of course, is that you cannot undo such drastic changes to the body as was done to my father."

Pokota floated next to her as she walked down one narrow hallway, engaged fully in the conversation. "Rezo said it was beyond his abilities, even though he was the one who did it."

"It's the effect of entropy." She swirled one finger in the air. "Once you combine things, it becomes much harder to separate them again. Like putting a drop of cream in coffee."

Pokota had read the entire letter while she slept. He knew where she was going with that comment. "So instead of trying to separate his body, Zelgadis made a Copy version of himself, and transferred his spirit over to it with the Hellmaster's jars."

Azalia smiled and looked at the ceiling, as if imagining her father. "It worked. And Father says we can do the same for you, too."

"But my body wasn't altered or changed. It was just... destroyed."

"I have heard the story." She stopped, and looked directly at him. "You were amazingly brave. My mother holds you up as a paragon of royal virtue. She didn't mention how cute you were, though."

_Cute? _Pokota blushed immediately. That was something no one had dared say to him before. "Hey!"

"Take it as a compliment, since it was meant as one."

His blush didn't fade, although she resumed walking. "So I have no source body for a Copy."

"Through the power of red magic, we only need a sample of your tissue. It doesn't have to be big... did you do any blood sacrifices as part of a holy ritual, or anything?"

"Um, no."

"What about filling a jar with urine to transform it into amon-"

"No!"

"Well, hmmm."

"I didn't spit in anything either." He thought on that for a moment. "Well, nothing that we kept. It HAS been twenty years." His eyes began to brim over with tears. To be this close to a cure... "I can't think of anything. Even my clothes were lost with Rezo's spirit."

The girl looked away, thinking, then snapped her fingers. "What about your hair?"

"Huh?"

"Mother said you had very pretty long hair. Did you brush it regularly?"

Amelia had thought his hair was pretty. That was something he would not have thought about, and he'd have to digest that information another time. "I did...I had to brush it several times a day."

Azalia smiled again, which seemed to be her default expression. "Do you have the hairbrush?"

"I don't know..." He thought of his room, with the large tester bed that had remained in its made state for thirty years, with a smaller nest he actually used in the center of it. There was the wooden vanity, that had belonged to his grandmother. His mother had given it to him when she had gotten a new one, and sat him before the precious mirror, letting him watch her brush his hair. She too had said how pretty it was, and how she didn't want to cut it since it was so lovely. The hairbrush was still in the top drawer of the vanity.

"Wait, I do!"

"That will work, as long as someone didn't pluck out all the hairs."

"I doubt it." The maids avoided his room, except to dust occasionally and change the linens. He had no chamber pot to empty, as the tasteless food he ate went into the infinite black hole of his stomach.

He gripped her borrowed cloak with one of his ear-hands, and pulled her in the direction of the upstairs. "It's in my bedroom, follow me."

* * *

The significance of having a girl in his bedroom for the first time was not lost on Pokota, but he shoved the thought aside in favor of business.

"It's in this drawer," he said, and indicated the shallow top drawer of the old gilded vanity. Azalia carefully opened the drawer, and peered inside it. "It belonged to my mother.."

Azalia let out an audible gasp as she pulled out the hairbrush. Her eyes had widened, and she held the old silver hairbrush out at arm's length, staring at it. Her gentle face had changed into something harder, and fiercer, and there was a gleam in her eyes that had not been there before.

"Princess Azalia?"

"Such a wondrous sight!" she said, almost shouting. Pokota winced. "This is genuine Hallmere silversmithery!"

"And...?" he prompted, wishing he could cover his ears with his hands more effectively. He cringed as she continued at full volume. She was like a completely different person.

"This is a veritable work of art!" She shook the hairbrush in his face. "They only created twenty hairbrushes, and all but one have been accounted for - and here it is!"

"So...?" He gingerly reopened one eye, staring at the object.

"And you just had it lying in a drawer! For shame, Prince Posel!"

"Well, I couldn't exactly use it," he muttered, looking away. The tuft of fibers on his head didn't need to be brushed.

The visiting princess held up the hairbrush like a scepter, her eyes glittering as if she were her mother giving a speech on justice. "I must have it."

"Huh?"

"This shall be my fee!" she cried in triumph.

"But that belonged to my mother!" Pokota found himself shouting back, wondering what had happened to the girl he'd met hours before, and who had decided to replace her with a combination of Lina Inverse and Nama the Enchanted Armor.

She dropped the brush and clutched it to her chest defensively. Her eyes narrowed. "Do you want to have a real body again or not?" she said craftily.

He sighed. There was no winning against a crazy girl like this and he'd be better off giving up now. It's not as if he had any real attachment to it, considering he had forgotten about it for twenty years, and she had immediately recognized its value.

"Okay, but ONLY if this cure of yours works."

She wasn't listening. She was stroking the silver brush, and talking to it like it was a baby. "Oh my precious Hallmere brush, oh yes, mama will take you home soon... first, let's get these hairs off you!"

Just like that, The Collector was replaced with the cool, collected Azalia from before. She pulled out a pair of gloves and a specimen bag, and began to delicately pull off strands of his hair from the brush.

He watched her, fascinated. "That's all you need?"

"Well, that's all I need from here," she said with another one of her brilliant smiles. The gleam in her eye had been replaced with the gentle sparkle. Whatever craziness ran through her mother's side of the family had already been supplanted by her father's calmer state. "We can go to your laboratory now."

"Okay," he said, and led the way, more than a little disturbed by the incident but afraid to say anything. She had said she was a collector, but he was only beginning now to understand the implications of her obsession with shiny things. It was the same single minded pursuit of a cure that had led her father to success, and he was not in a position to argue with his potential savior.

* * *

The laboratory, like the library, joined the temple and the castle proper, but like any good secret laboratory, it was several levels underground.

Rezo had stored the bodies of the people of Taforashia in the ceremonial central lab, but for Azalia's purposes, the smaller medicinal lab a few rooms back would be better.

"I'll need a chimera vat, the serum necessary to feed it, and about a month to grow it," she explained as he showed her the rooms in the laboratory.

"The medicine lab has all those things." He paused, confused. "I thought chimeras grew faster."

"This isn't really a chimera. It's an entire clone, a copy of your original form." They entered the small room, and she looked around at the equipment in approval. "And it will be very small and weak to start, but with the power of red magic, we can keep a false spirit from entering it and let it remain an empty vessel."

With that, she started pulling out the chimera vat from where it had been stored next to a closet - really, it was just a giant glass tank - and rummaging around on the shelves, looking for the ingredients for a nutrient bath. Chimera experiments were both illegal and also conducted by most of the major kingdoms. Rezo had been the only mage capable of transforming a human into a chimera without the labs and glass tanks and vats - he had transformed Zelgadis with a flick of his staff one day on a whim.

Pokota also began pulling down the ingredients she'd need - every mage learned the list of nutrients a body needed for growth and repair at some point, and he had done not a little experimenting of his own trying to recover his body. "Does that actually happen? A new spirit going into a growing body?"

Azalia began stacking glass test tubes and sorting ingredients on one table in her precise manner. "Yes. Copy Rezo - I'm not sure if you heard about him but he was a failed clone of Rezo from long ago - had his own spirit that formed alongside his body. It did not have the necessary protections on the body to prevent a new spirit from developing."

Pokota dropped one heavy tub off on her table, then dropped onto the container like it was a chair, thinking. "That's actually rather sad... A spirit would grow in this body if you didn't stop it? So by blocking it, are we killing someone's spirit?"

She shook her head, her expression serious. "A spirit is something that is born from the gods, not something that can be killed by humans. It enters the body at first breath." She took a deep breath to demonstrate. "All things that are alive have spirits that form naturally. We're merely blocking the passageway - instead of settling in this body, like a seed bouncing off rocks, the spirits of the unborn will just continue on to more fertile ground."

The answer was a little flowery, but she seemed to think no ill of what she was about to do, and Seyruun was the capital of spiritual and healing magic, not Taforashia.

He lifted off his makeshift chair and floated next to her, wishing he could be of more help. "So what else do you need?"

She held up the bag with his hair. "This should do. Give me just a few minutes to get started. Again, it will take a month before we know whether we had enough of your essence left in your hair to recreate your body."

"Essence?"

"Hmmm," she said, and pursed her lips thoughtfully, evidently trying to think of an explanation. "In Rezo's writing, he called it a very complicated name from another world. It's so complicated even the other world shortens it to just three letters - DNA. It's the building blocks used to create life at all levels. The tiniest little bugs all the way up to the mightiest dragons all use it." She started measuring chemicals into a titer, casting spells on them to blend them into perfect solutions. A research magician was part sorcerer, part chemist. "We can distill your essence from your hair, and from that, rebuild your entire body with it."

He watched her work, and found himself wondering if something in the chemistry lab would trigger her into the crazed kleptomaniac from earlier. But she remained focused on her work, and before long, she had a small droplet of... something, floating in a ball of light.

"I think we're good! But we need a catalyst, in your case." She stared at the ball of light. "For my father, we already knew that his essence was still the same on the inside, as me and my brothers and sister are all normal humans. But in your case..." After another moment's thought, she pulled off her glove and picked up a knife. Pokota held his breath as she carefully pricked the end of one of her fingers, and collected a precious droplet of blood into a tiny vial.

"We'll use my tissue as a matrix to start - there are all sorts of things in a body besides the essence, after all. Blood probably isn't the most suitable thing, but I should be able to make it work." She dropped the blood into the glowing ball of light before her, and it flared for a moment before turning a pinkish shade.

"Is that it?"

"No. The real show is about to begin." She winked. "You and I are about to make a baby."

With that cryptic and disturbing statement, she closed her eyes and began to chant. It was a spell unlike any Pokota had heard, in a language he didn't understand. But a familiar magic circle, in a deep blood red, began to form around her, and the invisible winds from the spell lifted her hair.

She was no Lina Inverse, and the effort for her to control this magic was great. His respect for Rezo went up another notch. The great sage had tossed off high level spells like this without any apparent effort.

As she continued chanting, she broke out into a sweat and she began to shake. But finally the spell reached a crescendo, and the glowing ball of light in front of her changed from a pink to a greenish blue color.

She collapsed on the stone floor, a triumphant look on her face. "I did it!" she said, breathing heavily.

"Azalia! Are you all right?" He floated in front of her, ready to go fetch assistance if she required it.

"No," she admitted, but forced herself to stand. "I'll be out of it for a few days. But it worked." She poked the glowing ball, and then gently cupped it in her hands. "This is merely a beginning. It takes a lot to grow a whole human being, and these early stages cannot be rushed."

She took the ball over to the chimera tank, and gently shoved it through the glass wall, as if the barrier were only air. Then she began to fill the tank with the serums she had mixed earlier, a slow process but one, at least, that Pokota was able to help with.

They sealed the top of the tank with a heavy lid, and Azalia staggered again, still greatly weakened from her magic use.

"I'm going to fetch the servants," he insisted, and this time she only nodded numbly. She was fading fast. Pokota should have thought to bring the temple priests in to help her out during the experiment, but she would have probably not wanted them around in the name of secrecy.

She waited outside the door for him, and then insisted that the door be locked and only she given the key, in the interest of national security, even as she was too weak to stand on her own. The temple priests, unaware of the nature of her experiments but probably sure of her expenditure of enormous amounts of magic, could only mutter and grumble amongst themselves as Pokota gave the door a royal magical seal on top of the physical lock.

The girl was carried upstairs, given back to the care of the team of maids that had pampered her earlier, and that was the last Pokota saw of her for several days.


	2. Chapter 2

She had slept for twenty four hours, he later heard, and had not left her bed for another thirty. Pokota remembered how Lina Inverse's hair had been bleached white after she used a Giga Slave - not the first time it had happened, apparently, as the Bandit Killer had found a bottle of the hair dye needed to restore it within a week.

Every mage reacted differently to high levels of magical expenditure, but exhaustion was the most common form of fatigue, and Azalia had already over exerted herself on the journey.

But by the dawn of her fourth day in Taforashia, she was able to join the royal family at breakfast. She was wearing the borrowed dress again, although she had commissioned a suitable if small wardrobe of mage robes from a very happy tailor who had visited her while she was recovering.

She chatted amiably with his father, leaving Pokota to ponder her in silence.

At the end of the fourth course for breakfast, a servant handed her a plate with a single chocolate covered pancake.

She stared at the plate with a stunned expression, and Pokota suddenly filled with dread. There was _that_ look in her eye. It was The Collector.

"The famous Taforashian chocolate pancake!" she cried, and stood up, her eyes focused solely on the plate.

"Ah, yes," his father said, confused by her behavior. "Everything you've eaten this morning has been traditional Taforashian food. I didn't realize that our pancakes were 'famous' though."

"Yes, yes, it was named the Most Decadent Breakfast dish by Hoity Toity Cooking magazine last year!" Her eyes were shining as she sat back down again, a maniacal grin on her face. "This shall be my second payment. Let's eat!"

The Taforashian royals watched their visitor transform from a crazed gourmand to a perfect lady. She calmly sliced into the pancake, and ate it without a further sound.

Pokota released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A silver hairbrush, and a _pancake?_ She really was a collector of odds and ends.

What would be her third demand?

That evening, she asked for a tour of the rest of the castle, and Pokota felt obliged to take her to his favorite spots - his tree, the fields, the castle roof. Up there, the princess soaked in the view of the moonlit landscape, with a thousand diamond stars sprinkled across the velvet sky. Below, the kingdom of Taforashia spread out, lights from the evening fires causing a mirror of the sky on the rolling hills below.

"The city is so pretty from here," Azalia said, with a happy sigh. She leaned onto one of the crenelations, her arms protected by the warm Seyruun cloak she had donned again. He joined her, settling his tiny body next to her arms. He didn't feel the bitter cold, but he felt more protected near her anyway.

"It's so small. We had to rebuild everything." He pointed toward the giant scar in the earth that was still visible from the terrible final battle with Shabrinigdo. "Half the kingdom's land was lost, and we didn't have that much to begin with. We're not a big place like Seyruun..."

She was silent for a moment, but then spoke in thoughtful tones. "It's true, the capital of Seyruun is much larger than the capital of Taforashia, but so is the rest of the kingdom. We're not bound in by the mountains like you are. And we're on the ocean, so we grew mostly because of commerce." She sighed, and looked back up to the stars. "But I prefer the mountains and the forest. The air here is so crisp and clear... All we have in Seyruun is buildings and beaches."

"Still, It must have been nice, growing up there. You're surrounded by so many great magicians, and I've heard the palace of Seyruun is enormous."

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I suppose. Mother tried not to spoil us so we lived rather modestly in one wing of the castle, with only a few servants." She sighed again, this time one of resignation. "Honestly, I was getting bored..."

Pokota thought of his abbreviated childhood. He would have welcomed some boredom if it meant normalcy. "Boredom is a luxury," he said, and turned back to look her in the eye.

"It is!" She laughed. "My father pushed me very hard to learn magic, and grandpa was insistent on our physical training, but that wasn't really too difficult." She looked wistfully at the cityscape once more. "It still wasn't enough. I wanted more."

Pokota joined her gaze. "I would have been happy to just study as a normal child."

"So you say," Azalia nodded, "and I believe you. But I kept hearing all the wonderful stories from mother and father about their youth - their crazy, globe trotting adventures with Lina Inverse."

"Ah. I guess compared to life with Lina, anything would seem boring." He heard a note of bitterness creep into his voice, but he couldn't help it. She irked him, probably because she was too much like him, and also probably because she was the only black magician he'd met that was actually _stronger_ than him.

"She is the greatest sorceress in the world; you should speak with more respect," Azalia said softly, but her rebuke was gentle.

"Ha..."

"You don't think so?"

He spoke flatly. "She's a crazy, washboard-chested glutton with a greedy, stubborn attitude and no regards for the wanton destruction she causes."

Azalia laughed. "That she is! Mother and Father always said as much. But she's also an amazing sorceress. She can be both, can't she? My father said she became an avatar for the Lord of Nightmares herself!" Azalia had stars in her eyes, but this was different from The Collector that possessed her when she found an object she coveted. This was more like her mother, who admired a person's character more than their material trappings.

Something she said struck him, though. Lina had been an avatar for the incarnation of Chaos? Really? "I guess that explains the Giga Slave, now that you mention it," he found himself saying.

Azalia sighed happily. "But for me, the biggest reason I came to Taforashia was because I wanted a chance to help another person."

"Huh."

"All those adventures... in the end, Mother and Father always ended up helping someone." She looked at the city again, a secret little smile on her face. "Mother especially hates injustice and wanted to do what she could to promote peace and equality in any way she could..."

He thought of the Amelia he remembered. She did believe in justice all right, but she also could be manipulated into believing that anything was for justice if you worded it just right. "That's one way of looking at it." But Azalia was right - it was Amelia who first listened to _his_ side of the story, and convinced the others to help him out. Without her passion for justice, he might still be wandering around trying to find Rezo the Red to this day.

"Haven't you ever wanted to have more adventures?" Azalia said, tugging on one of his ears playfully. For some reason, he didn't mind the intimate gesture.

"No thank you. Living thirty years as a stuffed animal has been quite enough adventure."

"But you're so cute!" She tugged on the other ear, then let go, realizing that he might not appreciate it.

He threw his tiny arms wide, exposing his comical body to full effect. "How can I be taken seriously as a ruler if I'm like this?"

"By ruling justly and fairly, of course," she said seriously.

Pokota sighed. She really, honestly saw nothing wrong with him. She thought he was _cute._

"I seriously considered abdicating the throne when Father dies. The only reason I won't is because of the wars of succession it will cause."

She shook her head. "We are going to do our best to make sure that's a non-issue, Prince  
Posel."

He liked it when she said his name.

"I hope this works, Princess Amelia," he returned in kind.

"It will," she said with absolute confidence.

He caught her eyes, those same deep blue eyes that belonged to her mother. They held no hint of guile, only supreme self-assurance.

A flicker of hope, and something else, began to glow within him.

_So she thought he was cute._

_

* * *

_

The heart of winter was fast approaching, and on the night of the winter solstice, Taforashia, like many other nations, celebrated their Winter Festival.

After they had recovered from the plague, the nation had made it a point to celebrate every festival, no matter how minor. They had a fatalistic view of the world now, and felt they should take every opportunity as a kingdom to celebrate the fact that they were even alive at all.

The castle's courtyard also functioned as the town square, and it had been festooned with wintergreen garlands and thousands of magical lights. Earlier in the evening, the castle itself had had a banquet, but as the sun set so early the courtyard had long been cloaked in darkness. The festivities had given way to merrymaking and dancing.

The court of Taforashia held no pretensions, and rather than have a formal dance inside the castle, they joined the citizens outside. Line dancing, court dancing, and even ballroom dancing courtesy of the country's tiny national orchestra filled the courtyard. With so many human bodies pressed into so small a space, the mages of the temple had erected a simple heat barrier over the courtyard, and they provided their own warmth even in this cold heart of winter.

Pokota alone could not participate in the revelry. He sat by himself at a table near a wall, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible. It had been this way for every festival for the last twenty years. The children of the castle who loved their living toy of a prince eventually grew up into citizens that still regarded him fondly, but paid no attention to him as a person. Even the young girl who had sewn on his ears after the battle with Shabrinigdo had gotten married and had two babies. She still visited Pokota occasionally, but she had a family now that required almost all her attention. Everyone but him became older. Immortality, if that's what his condition could be called, wasn't nice at all in that respect.

He tried to shrink back from the party because he didn't want to make anyone feel sorry for him. The castle servants checked on him frequently, and he wanted for nothing except human company.

So he watched them, his eyes hungrily absorbing the interactions. If Azalia's method worked... if he had a human body again, he too could be out there, dancing and laughing happily.

He picked her out from the crowd. She was wearing his mother's dress again, and despite her lack of jewels, she looked every inch a princess. Her fresh pink skin glowed among the sparkling lights, and her elegant posture and calm demeanor spoke volumes of her upbringing.

She started to walk towards him, and for a moment he held his breath, thinking she was coming for him, but she stopped a few feet away. He saw his father there, and realized she had headed for the king.

"Good evening, Your Majesty, and happy Solstice to you."

"Greetings to you, Princess Azalia." His father's voice sounded faint, and ancient. When had his father gotten so old?

She curtsied perfectly, and opened her mouth to say something, when the orchestra struck up another round of a gentle minuet. She closed her mouth a small laugh; evidently it had been unimportant.

His father tilted his head, listening to the music with his fading ears, and then proffered his hand to Azalia. "Young lady, would you do this old man the honor of sharing a dance with me?"

She smiled. "Of course, Your Majesty."

The slow minuet called for true court dancing, and the aging monarch and the much younger visiting royal made an elegant couple as they circled around one another. They talked, and since they did not move from their general position, Pokota was able to overhear their entire conversation.

"How is the royal family doing?" King Taforashia asked.

"Very well. My mother has recovered from her latest indisposition, and the new baby boy is healthy and strong."

"Seyruun has been blessed with four children so far, is that correct?"

"Yes. And probably more to come... mother is still determined to have a very large family." She blushed a little.

His father was silent for a moment. "It is good when that is possible," he said at last. "When my queen died, I knew I had a duty to remarry, but I loved her too much, and I thought my son would be enough."

"He _is _enough, Your Majesty," she said sharply. Pokota was surprised at how defensive she sounded. Everyone in the kingdom wished that the Taforashia royal family could have been much larger, not just his father. It was no secret that without a viable heir, the Taforashia line was more or less dead. And what would happen to the kingdom then?

"I suppose that is true," the king said, with a resigned sigh.

Azalia continued, undaunted. "Really, he is an amazingly strong person, and he is wholly devoted to the kingdom. There are no better traits for a ruler."

"The ability to have children is almost as important..." the king said, almost under his breath. Pokota's heart squeezed.

"That may still be fixed!" Azalia said insistently. "Have more faith in me and my father."

Duly chastened, the king shook his head. "It is unfair of me to speak of Posel in such a way. You are right, he has been more devoted to this kingdom than a careless king with a dozen children could have been."

Azalia smiled at him, her eyes shining with pride. For whom? "You are a good man, King Taforashia."

"I am an old man. I will die within a few years."

"Don't speak of such things!"

"I can only pray that I will see my first grandchild before the light fades from my eyes."

"Your Majesty..."

The dance ended. King Taforashia held onto her hands for a few moments, and gave them an extra, friendly squeeze.

"Our future - the very future of Taforashia - is in your hands, young lady," he said solemnly.

Azalia nodded seriously. "I will do my best."

The dance over, the couple broke apart. Pokota stared at the centerpiece of the table, feeling as though his heart was going to burst in his chest. His father would never speak so candidly about his condition if he had known he was in earshot.

Why had Azalia defended him so much?

Why did he wish now, more than ever, that he had a human body and could be out there, dancing with her, seeing those bright eyes and her happy smile as she looked into his face?

"Oh, there you are!" her voice said from beside him. "I was looking for you earlier."

His heart, such as it was within a body made of stuffing, began to thump within his chest.

He remembered himself. "Are you enjoying the festival?" he asked her, hating that he had to revert to pleasantries after hearing that conversation before. But he couldn't let her know that he had overheard.

"Yes! Oh yes, it's so lovely here, and the lights are so pretty, and it's nice to feel so warm in the middle of winter!" She twirled around for added effect. "It feels so much cozier than the festival in Seyruun. Everything there is so ceremonial and bothersome." She waved her hand nonchalantly, as if bothersome ceremony for a royal family were a boring chore to be endured.

"I'm glad," he said, and he meant it. He would be content to watch her be happy, he told himself.

The orchestra started up another dance, and he pricked his ears. It was the opening strains of a waltz.

"Would you like to dance, Prince Posel?" she asked.

He stared at her, open mouthed.

"I can't..."

"Why not?" She put her hands on her hips, and pointed one justice-laden finger at him. "Just because you are in your current form doesn't mean we can't dance together."

"But how?" he cried, blushing furiously, not daring to hope.

"Easily. This is a waltz, so I can pick you up like this," she said, and picked him up, holding his small body directly onto her waist. She left her hand on his bottom. This gave him a direct line of sight with the famous Seyruun bust-line, but she evidently didn't notice or didn't care. "Now, you bring one hand onto my waist here." She placed one of his ear-hands onto the small of her back. "And then we extend the other ones out to the side... Now, Ray-Wing!"

And with that, she launched them into the whirling mass of humanity on the dance floor. Pokota was flying along with her. The lights and the sounds of the world faded into the background; there was only Azalia, laughing, with stars in her eyes as she led them through the vibrant steps of the waltz.

Other couples quickly noticed the prince and princess dancing, and a space opened up around them as people watched in wonder. Any slip of self-consciousness that Pokota had felt was gone, as he saw their happy faces cheering and clapping the young couple on.

The dance seemed to last for only a few moments, before it was over, but Pokota knew it had really been much longer. She steered them over to his table, and set him down on it, laughing breathlessly.

"That was so fun!" she said, and sat down in the chair beside him.

He couldn't help but respond to her amazing smile.

"Yeah, it was," he said, and took a deep breath.

Earlier, his heart had been bursting with sorrow, but now, it was brimming over with happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the winter month could not pass fast enough for Pokota after that night. Every day he spent with Azalia was a wonderful torture. He was impatient to see if her cure would work; he was terrified that they were going to face failure, and he'd be stuck as a stuffed animal forever. The thought was too painful for words.

Surprisingly, she didn't find anything else she wanted as part of her contract. He kept expecting the voracious Collector to emerge every time he showed her a new room in the castle, but it never came out to play. He was grateful; that was one aspect of her personality that was rather frightening, and she was a much more pleasant person when she wasn't freaking out over the rarity of an object.

Day faded into night, and the weeks dragged on. But eventually, the day came when Azalia said that progress had passed enough on the Copy body, and she took him downstairs to look at it, captured in the serum tank.

They stared at the blob floating there peacefully, its eyes closed.

"It is ready," Azalia said after a few moments.

"It's... it's a baby!"

"Well, yes," she said, and touched one hand to the tank, looking at the creation she had wrought. "I told you it would be. You can't grow an adult human right away without some problems. We're lucky that we can speed up the process of gestation to a month with red magic."

"But..." He looked at the sleeping baby in its tank, somehow horrified by it. He had been expecting the body he had last seen - a ten year old, possessed by the spirit of a sealed demon.

"We have one more step, Posel." She had dropped his honorific shortly after the festival, a marked difference from her mother who had continued to use the formal speech even with the man who had become her husband. "But this time you must make a decision."

"What's that?"

She smiled then. "How old do you want to be this time?"

The question caught him off guard. He had been expecting ten. "I... never thought about that."

"Mother said you were ten when the plague hit."

He nodded, and looked at his tiny doll's hands, remembering the wiry, slender body of a young boy he had once worn. "Yes, I had just turned ten."

"But you're almost forty years old now," she said, as if she were trying to lead him to think fully about the situation he was in.

He shook his head. "I haven't really aged. Father says I experienced time differently in this form." He twisted the fingers on his ear-hands together. "I certainly don't feel like I'm forty, but I don't feel like I'm ten either."

"Still, it would be awkward to go back to being ten, wouldn't it?" She crossed her arms casually and raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose..."

"So, how old? In order to do the next step, I need to know."

What did he want? What was it that he wanted to do with a human body again? She was right; he was neither ten or forty. He was still young, but he had been through a lot over the decades.

He looked at her, her slender figure clad in her normal work robes, and realized his answer.

He wanted nothing more than to be just the right height to embrace her.

"Seventeen," he said. "Or eighteen. I want to be young, but also somehow an adult, and that seems to be about right."

"That's a good choice then, I think," she agreed.

She accepted his decision that quickly? "It is?"

"Seventeen. Not yet a man, not still a boy." She looked at him critically then, and he got the impression that she too was sizing up the possibilities of having a seventeen year old prince around.

"That's it then, definitely," he said hurriedly. Her normal starry eyed expression was gone, and the cool gaze before him unnerved him a little.

She said, deadpan, "You can also skip the worst of puberty."

Was this girl really fifteen? "Yeah," he mumbled, blushing furiously again.

"All right then!" She clapped her hands together, and rolled up her sleeves. "One seventeen year old, coming up." She took a deep breath. "Give me a moment. This is another very complex red magic spell."

The incantation was different than before, but the effect was the same. A familiar red magic circle formed around her feet as she drew on a celestial being's strength from another world. This was Rezo's power - the power of red magic, the power to transmogrify the human body. But even with all his powers, he had been unable to restore his own vision... he had been unable to break the seal Shabranigdo had placed upon his spirit without summoning the great demon himself.

Azalia's chanting reached a crescendo, and she finished it with a single word: "Celerity_!"_

She collapsed onto the ground, all her mana drained out. He hopped over to her, putting one of his ear-hands on her shoulder to support her.

They both looked at the chimera tank, which was now suffused in a hazy red glow.

"That's it?" Pokota tried not to sound disappointed. "Nothing happened."

Azalia tried to stand up. "Well, it's not instant. We still have one more day."

Pokota breathed a sigh of relief. Now that he was so close to becoming human again, he was scared - scared something would go wrong, that Azalia would fail, that she would blame herself and hate him. It wasn't rational thinking, of course, but his mind played out all the scenarios of her failure.

He was scared he would not be able to touch her as a human. The need for skin to skin contact, even just holding her hand, had grown within him over the past few weeks.

She went to touch the tank again, studying the tiny body within it. "This... is also the step that can be messed up the most. I'll need to check on this periodically." She pursed her lips. "It's probably better if I just camped out here overnight."

"The lab isn't really set up for an overnight vigil. There's not even a cot or anything."

She shrugged. "That's fine. I don't need much sleep." A large yawn from her indicated otherwise. "Well... I can take a short break and check on it later."

"Can I... check on it with you?"

"If you want. Although it might be sort of odd, watching yourself grow up! See, it's already turning into a toddler." She pointed at the tank, where the infant in the serum had started to grow and elongate. It was gentle uncurling from the fetal position, and the legs and torso were lengthening.

"Wow," he said, shivering a little, unsure of how to react to the sight, but no longer afraid.

As they left the lab, he gave one last glance to the serum tank, and prayed to the gods that her spell would have the desired effect.

* * *

Before their final check on the body, Azalia pulled Pokota aside into the library, citing the need for privacy. She locked the door with the magical seal of Taforashia - a trick she had learned after watching Pokota use it only a few times.

He sat on the table, apprehensively. Her expression was solemn.

"Before we go through the last few steps, I need to go over the risks with you," she said softly.

"There are risks besides the body not growing?"

She held up the Hellmaster's jar she had brought with her from Seyruun. "Yes, the technique is dangerous. We'll be using this jar for the procedure." She looked at the jar nervously. "I've practiced on my father, but he's also capable of doing it himself, so he was always there to back me up if I did it wrong."

Pokota stared at the jar as well. He did not have many positive memories associated with those things, but he did know that if the jar was ever smashed, his spirit would be lost for good this time.

She looked unsure for the first time since she had come to Taforashia. It was disconcerting to see her without the utter confidence in her cause on her face. "I also am not as skilled as Father, and I cannot transfer you back into your current form. Once you are human again, you will be a human forever."

He nodded. "That's what I want!" he said earnestly.

"Are you sure? To be human means to grow old and die." She planted her hands on the table and leaned forward. "There will be no going back."

Pokota balled his ear-hands into fists. "My childhood was robbed from me. I want nothing more than to grow and live and love like a normal person again."

She sighed. "There is also a risk that I could fail in this procedure. I've never done this unsupervised."

"I trust you," he said, and meant it.

"If I fail, your spirit will be lost in the ether. You will die." She looked away, as if by ignoring that possibility it would go away.

Pokota touched one of her hands with his ear. "Even knowing the risks, I have to do this. I have to, Azalia. You don't understand what I've been through."

She curled her own hand around his. "Posel..."

"Every day of my life since I was turned into this form, I have wanted to be human again. I have wanted to taste my food and feel real sensations and not be seen as... a freak."

"My father was considered a freak and he still found my mother..."

Pokota shook his head. "He was still a human shape, and a living creature." He broke free of the contact, throwing his arms and ear-hands wide again. "I'm a stuffed animal!"

Instead of looking at him with pity, she smiled. "But you're a cute one."

He blushed, but continued on. "Would you date a stuffed animal? Would you kiss one? Would you marry one?"

Her smiled faded into a thoughtful expression. "I hadn't thought about it like that."

Pokota sat down heavily, unable to keep his eyes from brimming over with tears. He felt young, too young, and ancient all at once. "This opportunity you've given to me... it means too much to me. At this point, I think I would rather die than have to live forever trapped in this body." He only barely managed to keep from breaking over into sobs. It was something he hadn't wanted to admit to himself, but now that he said it, he knew it was true. Living forever wasn't really living if you weren't human.

Azalia was silent as she watched him struggle for control. "I have an answer to one of your questions," she said softly, and picked him up. He looked at her, astonished, as she kissed him gently on the forehead. "Yes, I would kiss one."

He felt himself turn a bright crimson and struggled to be put down like an unruly cat. "That's not what I meant!"

"I know," she said with a soft giggle. "But I think you're a wonderful person, Pokota. I know that if we succeed, you'll be a wonderful man."

He stopped struggling and hung limply in her hands, defeated. "I'm scared, Azalia. I wasn't scared before, but now I am."

She set him back down on the table. "

"I won't fail you, Posel. And I think..." She paused, and gave him a look that seemed to pass right through him. "I'm beginning to see why my mother agreed to let me come."

* * *

They traveled down the steps to the laboratory, Pokota floating behind her, letting her lead the way. When had she started to become so familiar with this castle and the temple? It felt as though the laboratory belonged to her, not to the priesthood of Taforashia.

The priesthood had, in fact, only just now been let into the project, and they followed the prince and princess down the stairs, curious and perhaps a bit excited about the experiment that had occurred right under their noses. At Azalia's request, there was also a team of healers, as well as the King himself.

She opened the door confidently, and strode inside, the master of her lair. Once everyone else had also piled inside, the lab was rather crowded, but they were careful to give Azalia space to work.

"Good, it hasn't changed since this afternoon." She tapped the tank, evidently pleased with the progress of the sealed body inside it.

Pokota too studied the body. So that was going to be him? "It's so much bigger than I remember."

She patted the tank. "There's a huge difference between 10 and 17."

"I suppose so," he agreed.

"But I'm really pleased, it's formed perfectly."

The body was tall and slender, a paler color than he remembered, with darker hair that had grown very long overnight, almost reaching down to its feet. The eyes were closed, but he knew they'd be the same peridot they had been before. It was a little like looking in a mirror, or like a photograph, only instead of the young boy he had been when he had lost his body, this was a young man. It was time in reverse.

Something was bothering him about the way Azalia was staring at it, and it occurred to him that the body had on no clothing. "It's naked." He thought about that for a moment, and revised. "_I'm_ naked."

"Of course, it's floating in a vat of nutrients."

He felt a blush growing, and glanced around the room, which was filled with old men and women who worked in the temple. "It's embarrassing," he murmured to her.

She shrugged. "I'm a healer, I'm not really embarrassed by naked bodies, to be honest." Her mouth twitched into a grin. "Although they're rarely this sexy."

He was burning a horrible crimson now. "Are you really only fifteen?" he hissed.

She had the audacity to wink at him. "I'll be sixteen in the spring." She turned her back to the tank, and said to him, "Let's do this."

But she paused for a moment, and then looked squarely at Pokota. "Actually, not yet."

She picked him up out of nowhere and pressed him directly to her ample bosom. Pokota found himself in a very enviable position, but he was more embarrassed than he'd ever been in his life. Her breasts were soft and she smelled so nice and clean.

"W-what are you doing?" he said as she hugged him closely.

"I really wanted to snuggle you all this time and this is my last chance. You're just so cute!"

"Ugh! If you think this body is so cute you can have it!" He winced, but he meant it. He never wanted to be called cute again. "You never did ask for your third wish, so take it. It's all yours."

Her desire fulfilled, she set him back on the table she had assembled next to the tank earlier. There was the Hellmaster's jar next to him, the key to making this crazy scheme work.

He stared nervously at the jar. "Hurry up and get this over with."

"All right," she said firmly. "I will put you into a deep sleep first. If I fail, you won't wake up."

A small part of him believed that he could die happy now, after that busty hug she'd given him. "I'm prepared," was all he said.

"Good night, sweet prince."

And with that, she cast a sleeping spell on him.

The next few minutes appeared to be in a dream. He wondered how he was aware of anything going on at all. His spirit must have an affinity for the Hellmaster's jar, for he seemed to be floating above it as she gathered the attention of the crowd of assembled mages.

She told them about red magic, and about Rezo the Red Priest, and her father's research. She was like a scholar giving a lecture to a room full of esteemed colleagues.

Only after she'd explained the work and answered numerous questions did she finally begin to cast the actual spell. Posel had only seen it cast a few times by Rezo, but it seemed to be quite accurate. Gradually, he felt his consciousness shift from the stuffed animal over to the body inside the tank. But something wasn't right. When he had been transferred from his ten year old body to the stuffed animal, the transfer had taken place immediately, and he had had instant control over the new form.

This time, though, it was a struggle to catch a hold. It felt like he was still outside looking in. And there was the vacuum all around him, pulling him apart.

He tried to open his eyes, he tried to breath, but he was still surrounded by the serum. His lungs began to burn. He felt his eyes roll back up into his head.

No, he thought desperately, and tried to open his mouth to cry for help, but he was unable to control the body just yet.

"Posel, are you there?" his father asked, but he couldn't answer. He couldn't do anything. The vacuum around him was pulling on him ever more strongly, and he clung to the body, knowing that the void that was sucking him away would kill him if he let it. A spirit without a vessel will merely disappear into the ether, Rezo had said.

_A soul enters the body with the first breath of air. _Azalia had known that, but she apparently forgot the crucial step that a body in a chimera tank had no air around it.

Azalia realized something was wrong, and then her face blanched. "Oh no!" Without a moment's hesitation, she took her fists and smashed the expensive glass chimera tank, cutting her hands in the process. "I forgot to empty the vessel first! He can't breathe!"

Pokota felt the new body collapse on the ground amidst the fluid and shards of glass, and witnesses the sparkling of the glass and serum within the lights of the laboratory as if it was in slow motion. He still wasn't really attached to the body, but the tugging of the vacuum had lessened, and he knew that if he was just able to hold on for a little more, he might make it after all.

"I have to revive him," Azalia said, tears streaming down her face. She was clearly upset with her careless mistake. The mages of the temple surrounded her, fascinated as she bypassed any sort of magical healing and went for direct mouth to mouth contact, blowing air into his new lungs in a desperate bid to inflate them. Her lacerated hands left smears of blood on his chest as she tried to massage life into him.

All at once the tenuous connection to the body strengthened, like the sun coming from behind a cloud, and his consciousness was no longer floating above the body, but was pretty firmly embedded within it. He coughed violently, but that was good. He could breath on his own.

"Oh, thank the gods!" Azalia settled his head on her lap, and smiled at him through her tears. "I almost bungled that one good."

He felt weak, and strange to be in a human shape again. He tried to speak, but all he could do was cough for a few minutes. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and it occurred to him he'd have to learn to _talk_ again. "I feel horrible," he managed to croak out. His voice was thin and feeble, and he nearly choked on the words. He also spoke in a much deeper tone than he remembered having before, something that he hadn't even considered when he'd asked to be aged.

She stroked his head as if he was a very young child, smoothing back his wet hair, ignoring the cuts on her hand and the streaks of blood they left there. "You were just reborn, of course you're going to feel horrible. Birth is no picnic."

He struggled to sit up, but couldn't summon the strength. His muscles were nonexistent, and while moving an enchanted body of fabric and cloth had never been a problem, moving a real body of flesh and blood was something else entirely.

"So weak..."

"It will take some time to get used to this form," she said, smiled. "Father is always disoriented for a few hours when he changes. I'll stay a few more days just to make sure you're all right." She looked ashamed. "It doesn't help that I almost drowned you... Come on, let's try to stand." She stood up herself, and then gave a mighty tug to bring him to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, but managed to catch his balance through sheer force of will.

"Thank you," he said to Azalia, and finally hugged her as a human being. He was quite a bit taller than her, and it was only now that he realized just how much his previous body had altered his view of other people. She looked a little startled as he held her tightly, but she didn't break the contact either, and then her expression softened as she recognized the embrace as one of genuine gratitude.

The other mages in the temple applauded quietly when they saw Pokota moving on his own, and he broke the hug reluctantly, realizing he was still completely unclothed and touching Azalia wasn't at all proper in his current state. Some of the clerics had been instructed to bring a robe for him, and they dressed him in it to cover his nakedness for now. He really needed a bath and a haircut; the serum was sticky and he was streaked with Azalia's blood and the long mass of hair that reached down to his ankles was far more than he wanted to deal with even when he was clean.

Azalia watched all this tenderly and had her own cuts tended by a healer. When he was dressed, she then went back to the table where she had set his old body down, next to the Hellmaster's jar that was the key to her success. "Posel," she said, and brought the doll to him. She hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "Can I really have this?"

He nodded. "You can. You still needed your third item, per our bargain, and you liked me... it... so much." He touched the doll. "So this is what I looked like..."

"Yes." She hugged the stuffed animal, whose eyes were now dull and lifeless. All of Rezo's enchantments were gone. "I told you you were cute." She handed him the doll, and he held it and looked at it.

There were the seams from where his ears had been sewn back on. There were all the stains and tears. On the belly was the zipper with the pocket dimension for storage - the Sword of Light had just fit inside it.

He had never had the chance to ask Rezo exactly where the toy had come from. But that's what it was... a child's toy.

For some reason, he began to bawl like a baby as he held it.

* * *

The kingdom had only been informed of the transformation of their doll prince into a human again after the fact. For days, there were celebrations in the streets. Pokota's new body was tall and thin and had the muscle tone of a wet noodle, but he had had his hair cut and trimmed to a much more reasonable length, and had been dressed in clothing befitting a prince. Sleeping in his bed instead of the little nest on top of it was very odd. The maids had reversed twenty years of neglect that first day, and the room was scrubbed clean with brand new linens and a new wardrobe.

His father had had the small throne put away in storage, and replaced it with a proper one on the dais, one that was suitable for a teenaged prince.

He looked at his face in the mirror above his mother's vanity, and still half expected to see a stuffed animal with strange hands on the end of his long ears. Instead, he was greeted with a handsome young man, with dark violet hair that would lighten with exposure to the sun over time, and pale green eyes.

Azalia was there all the time, coaching him and coaxing him, and in a few cases casting healing spells on muscles he'd overexerted as he tried to rebuild his strength. But her task was done, and he was not surprised when she told him after barely a week that it was time for her to go home.

Who was he to stop her? She was a borrowed princess from another kingdom.

So the court assembled for her one last time, and packed up the horse she had ridden in on a little more than a month before. Many of the courtiers had gotten so used to having her around that they were sad to see her go.

Posel sat on his new throne, watching her as she said her formal goodbyes to the king.

"Your Majesty, and Your Highness." She bowed courteously. "The scribes from Seyruun will be visiting in the spring. I'll try to... I _want_ to come back with them. In the meantime, I must go home to see my parents."

The king nodded. Posel gripped the arms of his chair. "Of course," the king said. "Taforashia is most in your debt, Princess Azalia."

"I was hoping you could stay longer," Pokota heard himself blurt out. He felt so awkward and shy around her now, it hurt.

She smiled, but looked down at her feet. "Well, you are doing well and I think you need some time to get used to being human again. I'd just get in the way..."

"No! You've helped me so much, Azalia." He started to rise from his chair, but realized how foolish he was being and sat back down.

"It's all right." She raised her fists above her head, pumping them into the air in a universal gesture of victory. "I finally had an adventure!"

"I wish you a safe journey," King Taforashia said with grave finality.

"May peace be upon your kingdom." She bowed one last time, and then left the court, only turning back one last time to wave to Pokota.

His heart was somewhere in his stomach. She was just going to leave like that.

"I ... I can't just let her go, father," Pokota said, turning to his father, trying not to sound too desperate.

"She has a family to return to," the king said softly. "We have detained her long enough. You would have us demand more of her time when she has given us so much?"

No, that wasn't it. "I love her, father," he said, and looked at the door that was closing behind her as she headed into the winter weather beyond, much the same way that she had come in. But while she was leaving as she had arrived, he was a completely different person than the miserable little prince on a toy throne that first day. And it was all because of her.

The king digested that for a few moments. "I see. It's a common thing for a wounded soldier to fall in love with his nurse..."

"It's not just that!" Pokota found himself actually getting up from the throne again, but his time he didn't stop himself. "She's the first girl who has ever saw me as a person, and not just a stuffed animal. She... defended me, even to you!"

The king's eyes widened at that statement. "Well, then," was all he said, evidently waiting for Pokota to say more.

Pokota balled his hands into fists, in the same gesture he had done with his hands had been extensions of his ears. "I have to follow her." His voice, a now a mellow tenor, was firm. "I have to talk to her more. I have to find out if I have a chance..."

The king nodded in agreement. "Then go you must. Go let the stables know to give you a horse and to pack up a traveling bag for you. If you ride fast, you can catch up quickly."

He broke into a grateful smile. The king's eyes were twinkling; his expression was one of understanding. ""Thank you, father!"

"But you must return by the time the scribes from Seyruun come for their payment. And Posel..." His face turned gravely serious again.

Pokota felt his heart still. "Yes, father?"

The old man said simply, "It'd be best if she returned with you, not as a scribe, but as your bride."

* * *

Pokota followed his father's advice and alerted the guards to put together a second horse, and his maids to pack him enough clothing to last for a few months. They complied hurriedly; everyone seemed to agree with the king that the best hopes for Taforashia lay in convincing Azalia to come back as their future queen.

Posel had ridden extensively as a young boy, and while his balance was different as an adult, he found himself comfortable in the saddle again after only a few minutes. He'd be horrifically sore in the morning, but it would be worth the price just to see her once more.

It was only a few hours down the road that he caught up with her, as she was riding her horse gently through the quiet snowfall to keep it from getting too tired on her journey.

"Azalia!" he called when he was a short distance away from her. She turned to him, astonished, and stopped her horse until he could catch up.

"Posel?" She saw him gasping for air, then scolded him softly. "You shouldn't be riding yet, it's too soon!"

He took a few more huge gulps of air before he was able to speak. "I had to catch up, and I didn't have the energy to Ray Wing all the way here."

"Neither did I, that's why I'm on horseback." She stared at him. "Why are you here? Did I leave something behind?"

"I'm coming with you," he said.

She blinked, not quite comprehending. "What?"

Pokota tried to explain himself without sounding like a lovesick swain. "I want... I want to have an adventure again." He thought about the last thirty years as a stuffed animal, and revised that. "Okay, maybe a safer one. I want to see Amelia and Zelgadis and King Philionel again." That much was true, certainly. He wondered how those old friends would react to him in this new body.

She broke into an understanding smile. "I see! Of course, I'm sure they'd love to see you too."

"And I wanted to see you again, as well," Pokota continued, and looked directly at her, into those liquid blue eyes.

"But you just saw me this morning," she said, blinking again.

"It doesn't matter." He shook his head ruefully. "I already missed you."

"Oh, Posel," she said with a quirk in her mouth as she tried not to laugh. "Well, if you want another adventure... let's start with a race. You're going to have to catch me to see me!"

She spurred her horse and took off into a fast gallop, her laughter ringing across the dip in the road as she ran ahead.

"Ah! You were the one that said I wasn't supposed to be riding yet!" He took off to catch up with her. She stopped not too far away, leaning forward and laughing into the horse's mane.

"Sorry! I couldn't resist," she said when he reached her again. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were sparkling. She had never looked more vibrantly alive to him.

"Azalia... the real reason I'm coming with..." He took a deep breath, remembering his father's warning about returning with her in the spring as his bride. "I want to marry you."

That wasn't what he meant to say!

"Posel...?" she said, stunned.

He slapped his forehead. "I'm sorry it just came out like that. I'm an idiot.."

"No, Posel. It's fine." She had already recovered from the shock, apparently. "I'll marry you," she said, and that was that.

"What?" he lifted his head to stare at her. Was she kidding? But she looked quite serious.

"I said yes, Posel."

"But..."

"Come along, let's go to Seyruun together and tell mother and father!"

She took off at a true traveling pace again, and Pokota had no choice but to follow, stunned by the turn of events. Was that it? She hadn't even thought twice about his sudden proposal; she had just said yes after a few seconds.

Living a normal life - marrying her, having children, being by her side, growing old with her - was a dream that was suddenly within his grasp.

His heart was thudding in his chest, and he remained silent as he galloped behind her, although he wanted to shout for joy to the winter skies above.


	4. Chapter 4

The trip back to Seyruun in the heart of winter was about a week. They traveled from town to town, sometimes stopping early or riding past sunset in order to ensure they'd have a shelter each evening.

Pokota loved being able to travel as a normal human being. In their magical world, none of the innkeepers had really questioned a stuffed animal as long as he was with humans, but it had still been different when he traveled with Lina and the others while they were trying to find information on Rezo's jars. As a human, he could sleep in a regular bed and eat dinner and no one thought anything of it.

He and Azalia didn't talk about their engagement, if it could be called that. Usually they were too tired after a day of traveling to talk about much at all. But they always requested rooms beside each other, and Posel was content for now merely to be near her, and to know he was going to be with her for the foreseeable future. He'd deal with the implications of an actual marriage to her when he saw her family.

They reached the border of Seyruun within four days, but the country was huge, and the road still long. Azalia sighed and remarked that she missed the mountains already; Seyruun was a seaboard country, and there were only rolling hills bordering a large central valley that was filled with farm after farm.

On the last day of their journey, they approached the capital of Seyruun from the last hill. The giant star shaped city was completely flat, and practically at sea level. A magical barrier protected it from most of the ocean's anger, but its low elevation still put it at risk for hurricanes and tsunamis. And of course, nothing was to stop an annoying invincible beast like Zanafarr from trashing it. But the city had long since recovered from the scars from Zanafarr, and the perfect star shape spread out before them. The snow had faded as they approached the sea, and a cold, clear blue sky framed the city, while a brisk ocean breeze moved the bare trees and straw grasses around them on the hill.

"I knew Seyruun was big... but I forgot how big." Pokota paused to admire the view. "It's been a long time since I've been here."

"Did you know that the shape was put together this way to power the perpetual sea wall around it?" She looked out on the giant city with fondness. She was home. "The city itself is almost alive in that respect."

"No, I didn't know that. No one had much time to talk to me about Seyruun the last time I was here..."

"I'm sure my parents and grandfather will be very happy to talk to you about it now."

He shifted uncomfortable. "Perhaps, but I'm not sure how they'll react to us wanting to get married..."

Azalia wasn't concerned. "We're both royalty, I can't see a problem."

"That's just it," he said, and started the horse plodding forward again. She joined him a moment later and they continued on pace together. "When nobles and royals get married, there's a lot more that goes into it. Haven't you have strangers you never met ask for your hand? Other princes and kings?"

"Of course, but my parents would never entertain the notion of a political marriage." She looked ahead to the city again, probably imagining her parents in the castle in its center. "They married for love, and they want their children to do the same. Had you been a pauper along the street, they could have worked something out."

Something had always bothered him about that, actually. "How did Zelgadis manage to convince King Phil to let him marry Amelia?"

She thought for a moment, trying to think of an answer. "Well, even before they were married, he was knighted by grandpa and allowed to act in his stead on missions abroad. I guess you could say he was an ambassador of sorts."

"Ah, so he was Seyruun nobility after all, then." He thought of the chimera, whose single drive in life had been to discover a cure for his "condition" - and to whom he now owed an incredible debt for curing his own.

"Sort of. And he _was _minor nobility in his own right, although he denied anything to do with the Greywards family after his grandfather Rezo transformed him." They rounded a corner in the road. "Oh look, there's the outpost guard. We're almost there!" She sped up to a trot, and shouted to the lone guard who stood in front of a small stone tower. "Ho ho, Jeffries!"

Pokota had no choice but to trot after her as well. It didn't surprise him that she knew the name of the guards; she had learned the names of the entire castle staff in Taforashia within a week. She was that sort of person.

The guard greeted them joyfully. "Princess Azalia! Welcome home, your highness." He looked at Pokota without avarice, but mild curiosity. "Who is your companion?"

She gestured to Pokota gracefully. "This is Prince Posel of Taforashia."

The guard's eyes widened. "Oh?" He straightened up, and gave them a smart salute. "Welcome to Seyruun, your highness Prince Posel!" To Azalia, he said, "Let Skinner know, princess. He'll send one of the pages to inform the gate guards."

Azalia nodded. "Of course. Thank you Jeffries. Stay warm!"

The guard dropped his hands from his salute and rubbed them together sheepishly. There was no fire here, and while he was dressed warmly, it was still bitterly cold outside. "Aha, will do, your highness."

A couple hundred yards down the road, Pokota said, "He didn't even question my identity."

Azalia seemed genuinely surprised. "Why should he? Why would I lie?"

"Well, I'm so used to everyone expecting a stuffed animal." Most of the other sovereign nations were aware of the plight of Taforashia's royal family, and visiting nobles had always expressed pity and dismay at his condition.

"Although we kept my mission to Taforashia a secret outside the borders of Seyruun, most of the royal palace had caught wind of our proposal." She shrugged. "So everyone already knew."

"I see," he said, and fell silent. It's true, he though, that a rumor about a stuffed animal turned into a human would spread quickly. They hadn't planned on advertising the fact that he was human again, but maybe they wouldn't need to. Everyone would hear about it from other people and travelers.

They continued without further comment until they approached the gate to the outer baileys of the city. An entire squadron of guards was stationed here, and they were huddled together around warm fires, comfortable but still aware of their job and responsibilities.

"Greetings, travelers!" the squadron captain said, and motioned for them to stop.

"Hello, Skinner!" Azalia said with a big grin.

"Princess Azalia!" Like Jeffries, he seemed quite pleased to see her. "Welcome home, your highness."

Her back straight and her voice authoritative, Azalia said, "Skinner, send a page to the court and inform my parents that I have brought Posel Korba Taforashia with me."

"Aye, your highness." He waved over one of the pages, who needed no further prompting and proceeded to jog inside the city gates. "Greetings to you, Prince Posel. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"

Everyone here was so polite. "Yes, thank you."

"Drop your horses off at the stable before you proceed past the inner baileys," Skinner said, as the opened the main gates for the two travelers. "Ahaha, but of course you know that, Princess Azalia."

She looked sheepish. "Actually, I'd forgotten! I've never ridden outside the city before. Thanks for the reminder."

With that, they crossed over the threshold of the city, a princess and a prince riding together on two white horses. People stepped out of their houses to watch them go by; everyone knew Azalia, but Pokota was a stranger to them, and he would provide many a discussion for them over the next few days. Even a busy city like Seyruun would find much entertainment in having a prince visit.

Wait'll they find out what the prince wanted to do to their princess, he thought wryly.

They dropped off their horses at the stables as directed, and proceeded to the inner baileys, the final wall that encircled the castle with a moat and all the out-buildings inside it. The guards there too were happy to see Azalia, and Posel began to wonder if there was anyone who disliked her in the castle. Maybe someone who had been a victim of The Collector.

They were ushered into the main throne room, as King Philionel and his daughter and son-in-law were holding court.

The page had warned the palace, and the herald didn't blink when they arrived at the door together.

"Princess Azalia dis Morgan Seyruun and Prince Posel Korba Taforashia!"

The royal court of Seyruun was much larger and much airier than the musty old court of Taforashia. The grand hall extended far overhead, and everything was brilliantly lit with enchanted spells. Pokota felt incredibly self-conscious, as he had the last time he had been there, but before he had had nothing to lose and everything to gain. King Philionel, who had then been only a prince himself, sat on an enormous gilded throne, flanked by Princess Amelia on his right, and her husband Prince Zelgadis on his left. The King's hair was now salt and pepper, but he still appeared great and powerful, a paragon of physical strength and prowess.

Amelia looked exactly as he remembered - petite, pretty, calm. Her hair was longer, and motherhood had rounded her figure slightly, but she still looked youthful and innocent.

But Zelgadis was a human.

He stared at the man who had been a chimera, who had searched tirelessly for decades to an affliction caused by a very powerful, very selfish sage. His hair was blue in his human form; the source for Azalia's cornflower colored tresses, no doubt. His skin was naturally pale. Only his eyes were the same - those piercing eyes that pursued their goals with a single minded determination.

"Come along," Azalia whispered. To her, these weren't arguably the most powerful political figures in the entire western continents, but merely her family.

They reached the end of the long aisle, and knelt before the sovereign of Seyruun.

The king wasted no time. "Rise, Azalia, and Posel."

Posel stood, trying very hard not to shake in nervousness. Azalia shot him a reassuring glance. He wished he could hold her hand, but as it was, all he could do was be grateful she was beside him at all.

"Welcome back, granddaughter. I see your mission was a success." King Philionel sounded absolutely jolly. He was almost as old as Pokota's father, but the difference between them was marked. His father was an old man, but King Philionel was in his prime.

"Yes, your majesty," Azalia said formally. "As agreed, Taforashia will share its entire library with Seyruun, in order to preserve the information." She held out the original document she had brought with her to Taforashia, which had been signed and resealed by his father.

"Very good. And you, Prince Posel. Now that your body has been restored, what business have you with Seyruun?" The joviality was suddenly gone. "Was our bargain not reasonable?"

Pokota swallowed. "It was a very reasonable bargain, and Taforashia is grateful to Seyruun, more than words can express. My father wished for me to especially convey his thanks for giving him the possibility of maintaining the royal line of succession again."

King Philionel nodded. "His gratitude is noted, and we are pleased we were able to help our friends in Taforashia. So why did you come?" His expression was curious but guarded.

Best to get this all over with at once. Pokota immediately dropped back down to one knee.

"I have come to request the hand of Princess Azalia in marriage."

There were audible gasps from around the court. The king looks stunned, but it was Zelgadis who reacted first, leaping down from his throne and grabbing Pokota by the neck with both hands, literally lifting him off the ground. He may have only been a human now, but he was still quite strong, and lifted the younger man effortlessly.

"What right do you have to touch my daughter?" the prince of Seyruun growled. His voice hadn't changed from his chimera form.

Azalia tugged on her father's arm, horrified. She hadn't expected this reaction. "Father! Put him down!"

"Mr. Zelgadis!" Even Amelia had joined in the fracas, jumping down from her throne as well and tugging on Zelgadis's other arm. Even combined, they still weren't strong enough to break his fatherly defenses.

Pokota didn't try to free himself, but instead focused on breathing through his constricted wind pipe, waiting for Zelgadis to calm down.

It didn't take long. "You're taller than I remember," Zelgadis grumbled after a moment, and set Pokota back on the ground. The younger man towered over him by half a foot.

"You're shorter than I remember," Pokota answered, rubbing his neck. There would be bruises there tomorrow, no doubt.

Zelgadis continued to glare murderously at him even as Azalia started chanting a curing spell. Around them, the court of Seyruun was abuzz with the incident and all the implications of a marriage between the two young royals.

"All right, calm down," King Philionel bellowed, and the court immediately fell silent again. He looked down on Pokota, great and terrible all at once."The Kingdom of Taforashia is requesting an alliance by royal marriage with the Kingdom of Seyruun?"

"Well, yes," Pokota said, coughing. "I guess. Really I just want to marry Azalia, though." He looked at her, standing next to her mother. They could have been twin sisters. No wonder he had mistaken her for Amelia the first time he saw her. The only difference was their hair, a few inches in height, and a tiny mole on Azalia's cheek that functioned as a beauty mark. In many ways, Amelia had been his first adult friend, but he had been unable to feel anything more for her due to his age and the restrictions of his body and his knowledge of her love for Zelgadis. It had taken Azalia to become his first love.

"That, my young prince, is the right answer." King Philionel stood up, and clapped his hands, adjourning the court. "Let's gather in the strategy room where we can negotiate in private."

* * *

The strategy room of Seyruun was like a more formal version of the library of Taforashia. The last time Pokota had been in there, he had been a tiny stuffed animal prince, begging for the aid of Seyruun in stopping the Great Beast Zanafarr, even at the cost of destroying part of the city. Seyruun had unconditionally provided them with aid that time, and Posel had believed King Philionel when he said they regretted not being able to assist Taforashia more during their initial infection with the Duram plague. Later on, Posel would realize that it was his first true attempt at networking as a royal. Countries didn't help each other freely - they helped each other because at some point, some day, they might too need aid. At this point, if Seyruun ever requested assistance from Taforashia, they would be in no position to refuse and would have to provide them with any help they could spare - even if it meant going to war.

They all sat around the large pine table, with several of the magistrates as witness. King Philionel gave them a few moments to settle down, before he steepled his hands together and pursed his lips.

"While an alliance between Seyruun and Taforashia is not unwelcome, this is not really a development I had anticipated," he said, and looked hard at Pokota. Rather than flinching, Pokota met him stare for stare, and it was King Philionel who broke away first. "I'm not sure anyone considered it a possibility, to be honest."

"Actually, I had," Amelia admitted, looking a little sheepish at her confession.

Everyone stared at her, including Pokota and Azalia. The princess giggled nervously.

"I thought Prince Pokota and Azalia would be a good match, so that's why I asked Azalia to go," she continued. "I thought I was just being a silly romantic, but maybe I do still have judgment about these sorts of things after all."

Zelgadis was not pleased. "You said you didn't want me to go because of the baby! You said we had no choice but to send Azalia instead!"

"Well, that too." Amelia smiled serenely. "But any mage in Seyruun could have gone, once you had trained them. Azalia already had the training so she seemed the most convenient. And I thought it was time for her to see the world..."

Zelgadis rounded on his wife. "You can't be serious. Azalia is only fifteen! She's not old enough to make these kinds of decisions."

"Sweetie, I was twelve when we met," Amelia reminded him.

"That's... besides the point." Pokota was fascinated by their not-quite-argument. They had met that long ago? Zelgadis seemed to realize he was not going to win, and he lapsed into a sullen silence, shooting daggers at Pokota while King Philionel continued.

"Your opinion is noted, Zelgadis. But do you have any valid objections?"

"Prince Posel is almost forty years old, your majesty," Zelgadis grumbled, although his expression remained deadly calm. His human form's face was as stone as his chimera form, in many respects.

"He looks rather young and strapping for a middle aged man," King Philionel commented, looking pointedly at Pokota.

"While it's true that I've been alive for forty years," Pokota said, taking the cue, "I really don't feel any older than I appear." He stared at his hands - large hands, the hands of a young man, human hands for the first time in almost thirty years. "It's hard to age when you have no body."

Amelia had the final word in the matter. "And it wouldn't be the first time in Seyruun's history that an older man would be married off to a very young girl, Father."

No one could argue with that.

Azalia slipped her hand into Pokota's, and gave it a squeeze. "He doesn't look or act that old to me, grandfather. He's just... Pokota." She smiled at him, and all felt right with the world again.

King Philionel looked at them closely. "Ultimately, the decision does not lie with any of us but these two. Azalia, child, are you sure you want to marry so young? We had just set you loose to have your own adventures. Are you ready to settle down so soon?" He asked her this seriously; there was no going back with a royal marriage.

"Yes, grandfather," she answered in equal seriousness. "I love Taforashia. I love the people there... the mountains, the forest. And I love Prince Posel."

It was the first time she had said those words, and he felt as though his heart would burst in happiness.

"And you, Posel? Are you ready to settle down so soon after regaining your body?"

He took a deep breath, and told the truth. "I am. I've had enough 'adventure' already. All I want is to live a normal life again, and to give my father the grandchildren he so desperately wants... And to be with Azalia."

And that was that. King Philionel slapped the table, confirming their decision. "Then there we have it. We shall have a royal wedding!"

Around them, the mages and magistrates cheered and applauded.

The majordomo of the court spoke up. "Per the custom, it must be held in the kingdom where the couple will live."

King Philionel nodded in acknowledgment. "Taforashia, I assume, is aware of your plans?" he asked Posel.

Pokota hesitated. "My father is. Well, he knew I was coming here for that purpose. We never made any formal announcement since we wanted to talk to you first."

"A reasonable precaution," Amelia said, her eyes twinkling. "We'll send a courier and have things arranged immediately."

King Philionel disagreed. "Unfortunately, the winter weather will only worsen and Amelia is in too delicate of a condition to travel just yet. We will have to wait until spring."

"Father! I'm not in that bad of a shape," Amelia said, pouting out her lower lip.

"Yes you are," her husband argued. "And the baby is only two months old. He's not able to travel in the weather just yet either."

Amelia sighed, knowing that it was her turn to lose the argument.

Azalia looked at her mother with sympathy. "We can wait, grandfather."

"I just want to be with you, Azalia," Pokota said. "Whether we're married or not yet, I don't mind."

Evidently that was the wrong thing to say, because Zelgadis tried to leap across the table to strangle Pokota again.

"If you lay one finger on my daughter before your wedding day, you little bastard, I'll-"

Amelia gripped him around his chest, holding him back. Pokota jumped up from his chair, trying to get out of reach of the angry papa. "

"Zelgadis! Manners! That is your future son-in-law!" Amelia said frantically.

Zelgadis tried to escape, the murderous glint in his eyes again. "That's why I'm letting him know his place now! "

"Sit down!" King Philionel roared, and Zelgadis immediately went limp in his wife's arms. There was no arguing with the king when he used that tone.

"We've got some paperwork we'll have to draw up," the sovereign continued, and barked orders to the magistrates around them. "Summon the scribes and the lawyers. Azalia, you may show Prince Posel. to the guest room and give him a tour of the palace while we write up a treaty. This may take us a while. It's been a long time since he was here, and as I recall, we were in too urgent of a situation for him to see things the last time."

"Of course, grandfather," Azalia said. She grabbed Pokota's hand, and pulled him toward the door. He went willingly, as grateful for the escape from her angry father has he had been to save his country. Zelgadis was a terrifying person to have as an enemy.

* * *

They ran down the hallway, away from the hubbub of the strategy room. He followed Azalia as she pulled him down a maze of hallways, and decided that at this point he'd follow her to the depths of hell if it ever came to that.

After many twists and turns, they reached a broad central corridor. Only then did she stop running, and it took them several minutes to catch their breath and recover from their sprint.

Azalia looked chagrined. "I had no idea Father would react that way." She looked down at her feet. "I suppose I always have been daddy's little girl, but you two were once friends, weren't you?"

Pokota grimaced. "That's exactly why he doesn't like it. I knew it was coming. But I guess I can't blame him."

He had actually been mildly jealous of Zelgadis and Amelia - they had been able to fall in love, start a family, and grow older and wiser than him. It had been the same with Lina Inverse and Gourry Gabriev as well. He had never regretted his actions for Taforashia, but he had always wanted his happy ending, too.

Now, with Azalia, he thought he finally might have a chance at it.

She tugged him down a side corridor, which was lined with portraits - no doubt of Seyruun monarchs past. The country had been ruled by her family for almost seven hundred years.

"This is the wing we live in, the north point. The castle is in a star shape within the circle of the inner baileys, just like the city, but the interior pentagon is all rooms for staff and meetings and stuff. The other four star points are now used as housing for other nobles and mages who are part of the court. Mother didn't want us to be too spoiled, so we only have a suite of rooms each."

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. Only a suite, each? "I only had the one room to myself. But then, our castle is smaller." It hadn't felt small when he was growing up, but after he started traveling in his doll form and saw outside nations, he realized just how tiny they were.

Azalia twirled around, her arms thrown out to emphasize the cavernous hallway they were in. "Your castle... is perfect. It's just right to me." She went to a grand looking double door, and carefully opened one off the massive wooden panels. "And these will be your rooms while you stay here." She slipped inside, and Pokota had no choice but to follow. The central room was spacious and well appointed; it was clear this was the room where high ranking guests stayed. "You have the drawing room here, and the bedroom off to the side, as well as a private bathing area." She gestured to each doorway. "There is a service hallway hidden along the outer wall, below the high windows. We'll probably give you the standard staff of a valet and chambermaid, unless you need more servants."

Pokota felt that it was too nice, and too much. He didn't even have his own valet at home, and neither did his father. "You don't have to give me the best room -"

She cut him off. "Yes we do, Posel. You're a visiting royal."

He thought about the last time he was in Seyruun, and what King Philionel said earlier struck him - only the emergency had prevented a formal, proper greeting and stay in their capital. Seyruun had never treated him differently because of his condition, but had not been able to treat him with proper respect because of the situation. He breathed in a heavy, resolute sigh. He should have gone to Amelia and Zelgadis's wedding. He should have traveled more. It had been his choice to lock himself away, but they probably would have been happy to see him in any form.

Impatiently, she took his hand and dragged him back into the main corridor. "And further down the hallway is my sister's room. My brothers are upstairs, as are my parents. My room is at the end. I think it has the best view. Come!"

She tugged him insistently down the long, wide hallway. At the end was a single doorway, and Pokota realized it opened onto the end of one of the start points. It was triangle shaped, with two walls with the same high windows as the guest room, and a door on each side of the base of the triangle leading off to her bedroom and probably a shared bathroom with her sister. All the walls were lined with shelves - her Collection, he realized.

She was right, the view was fantastic. The north side of the tiny hill the castle had been built on centuries ago sloped off sharply, so that they were actually a few floors above street level at this star point. The ocean that surrounded the capital roared in the distance.

"A seaside view. It's a grand sight," he said, and meant it. He walked up toward the windows to get a clearer view.

She joined him, staring out at the bustling city and the docks and quays that lined the peninsula's beaches. "I would sit here and stare and dream what it would be like to live in the mountains or the forest."

"It's not that exciting..." Pokota said, raising one eyebrow trepiditiously. "Things are pretty sleepy most of the time. You might get bored."

"That's for me to decide!" she said firmly.

He turned away from the ocean view to examine the shelves that lined the walls more closely. "So this is your collection? Well, aside from your food." He noticed that the hairbrush and his old body had been set on a table near the door - it was rather disturbing, to see oneself slumped over on an end table. It looked so small and forlorn now; without Rezo's magic, it was really just a doll. He remembered the puppet Ozzel - she too had been merely enchanted wood, and when her spirit - which was only an extension of Rezo's will - left her body, she collapsed into a pile of parts.

Azalia pointed to a wall that was filled with frames. Pokota realized they were excerpts from magazines. "Anything precious I've eaten goes over here. I'll be adding one for that pancake, as soon as I find that issue of Hoity-Toity Cuisine."

He couldn't help himself. He had to laugh. "You really do just collect things you like."

She looked a bit insulted. "I collect things of value. If you hadn't served such a famous dish, I was eying your main hall's candelabra. It's also Hallmere silversmithery."

"You don't have to collect it now Azalia. It will be yours anyway." He reached over and took her hand. "How did you start collecting things? It's not a hobby of your parents, certainly,"

"Mother says that when I was two I started marching around the castle, declaring everything I saw to be 'mine.' They started an intervention program to separate out what really was mine from the rest of the castle." She stared at the shelf-lined walls. "It sort of grew up with me."

And that had been the glint of The Collector in her eyes - a remnant of a two year old's will, carefully nurtured and channeled and protected. Amelia and Zelgadis were good parents.

He squeezed her hand. "You never did ask for your third request."

Her expression suddenly darkened. "That's because..."

His heart stilled. "What was it?"

She broke their hand contact and paused for a long moment, looking away. She seemed a little embarrassed. "You."

"What?"

Azalia took a deep breath, faced him square on, and spoke in the formal tones of a confession. "I wanted to have _you._ Not stuffed animal you, but you. You're everything I dreamed you'd be - you're brave and kind and strong.. And you were like a fairy tale. Mother always told me about you - the prince trapped inside a stuffed animal, just waiting to have a princess come and wake him up. I thought I could be that princess." She was blushing. "And then mother gave me that chance."

He looked at her, in open-mouthed astonishment.

"But you were just going to leave back to Seyruun without telling me?" If he hadn't chosen to ride after her... he could have lost her forever.

"I realized that a human being wasn't something I could just take." She bit her lip in frustration, tears forming in her eyes. "You weren't a mere toy, like a hairbrush or a pancake, but a real person."

"Azalia..."

She wiped away her tears, but they kept flowing. "I'm getting my wish anyway, though. This wasn't something I could take, but you're giving it to me anyway." She laughed, because she couldn't stop crying. "When you followed me on the road to Seyruun.. I was so happy. I thought I was going to die, I was so happy."

You should hold her, a little voice in Pokota's head whispered. and he reached out to embrace her, resting his arms on her back and pulling her close. Their positions were reversed from the time they had danced during the festival. It was funny - they'd done everything backwards. They'd agreed to get married, _then_ they'd talked about why they wanted to do it.

So he was her fairy tale prince. So be it. She'd awakened him from a sleep that had lasted almost thirty years. For that alone, he'd be her prince forever.

"I can't wait until our wedding," she said, looking up at him. He was about a head taller than her now, a perfect match for her.

"We're going to _have_ to wait. I got the impression that this sort of thing can't be rushed." Even after they traveled back to Taforashia, they'd have to research and plan out everything according to custom. It could take weeks or months.

"It's going to be so much fun!" Suddenly, there was the glitter of The Collector in her eyes. Now that Pokota knew more about it, and her, he accepted that facet of her. It wasn't scary any more; it was just another part of her. "I know a way I can claim my third item right now anyway."

An unexpected surge of something flooded through him - hormones, he would later realize. Something he had lacked for three decades. They were wild and uncontrollable and part of being a full human.

She leaned up, closed her eyes, and kissed him.

This is what he had been missing, as a prince trapped as a doll. He slid his arms down lower to her waist, but dared not go too far - he didn't want to disturb the moment. The afternoon sunset was streaming from the western windows, and the girl in his arms had awakened his heart. Kissing, he discovered, was quite nice.

They were so involved in each other that they entirely failed to hear the door to Azalia's bedroom open - but they did hear the audible gasps from those who had entered.

They broke apart instantly, but there was no hiding the horrible blushes on their respective faces. Getting privacy in this castle was going to be difficult.

"Oh my," was all Amelia said, her hands held up in front of her face. "My little baby girl is growing up!"

Zelgadis was less impressed. He strode into the room and started to strangle Pokota again. "Keep your paws off my daughter!"

"Father no!" She tried to tug on his arms in vain, then rolled up her sleeves and started chanting a quick and fast magic spell instead, evidently realizing there was no stopping her father through normal means. "Elmekia-"

"No magic inside the castle! You know better!" Amelia said, her tones scolding. Zelgadis turned his attention from his future son-in-law to his eldest daughter, surprised at the breech in protocol. Azalia seized his momentary distraction to free Pokota from his hands. She grabbed his arms, and the two of them fled her room, her angry father running right behind them.

Well, this wasn't quite the adventure he had wanted, but it seemed like marrying into the Seyruun royal family was going to be an adventure of its own, anyway.

Behind him, he could hear King Philionel shouting after them.

"That's my granddaughter! Run, run!"

"Daddy, this isn't something to cheer on!" Amelia cried, dismayed. "Mr. Zelgadis, you stop chasing them right this instant!" And with a sigh, she picked up her skirts and started running after the group as well.

His new body was already getting winded. It was going to take many months to get it into shape, Pokota realized. But even as he was panting and running with Azalia, ducking down stairways and service corridors to shake off her angry father, he realized he was having more fun than he'd ever had before in his life.

Azalia was beside him, laughing.

* * *

_The Kingdom of Seyruun_

_The Kingdom of Taforashia_

_Announce the royal joining of_

_Azalia dis Morgan Seyruun_

_and_

_Posel Korba Taforashia_

_in the bonds of Holy Matrimony._

_The ceremony will be held in the_

_Great Temple of Taforashia_

_A parade will proceed the ceremony_

_followed by a Festival of Goodwill_

_All citizens are invited to attend the parade and festival._

_Additional invitations to the ceremony are available to citizens on a limited first come, first serve basis._

_The royal couple requests that all gifts be in the form of donations to the rebuilding of Taforashia._

"WHAT!" Lina Inverse Gabriev shouted, throwing the invitation down onto the floor. Her children, well acquainted with their mother's short fuse, thought nothing of her temper tantrum and continued playing quietly in the corner. "That stupid little animal is going to marry my god-daughter!"

"Oh, that's nice," Gourry said, also unruffled by her eruption. "They'll make a good couple."

"HE'S A STUFFED ANIMAL!" Lina continued to screech at the top of her lungs.

"He is? I thought he was a prince."

"He is! But he's a... that is to say..." She picked up the invitation and looked hard at it. "I think it's time for us to pay a little visit to a certain long eared furball in Taforashia," she said finally. "There's more to this than meets the eye."

And with that, the Gabriev household packed up for a sudden vacation with their friends in Taforashia.


	5. Wacky Highjinks Ensue

**Part 2 - Wacky Adventures**

Life in Seyruun quickly settled into a routine for Pokota. Five days a week, the court met and the king discussed issues. Azalia and Pokota were expected to attend court, although her younger brothers and sister were excused still. They sat on the side chairs as part of the gallery, watching her grandfather make decisions, occasionally with the input from his heir, Princess Amelia, or her husband, Prince Consort Zelgadis. On weekends, the court did not meet and they were free to pursue their own plans. Azalia took him around the city, showing him her favorite places much as he had done in Taforashia for her before.

But always, always, were the omnipresent guards. Zelgadis was taking no chances and had ordered them to monitor his eldest daughter around the clock. Privacy was _impossible._ They were allowed formal, cursory kisses on the cheek, but no more, not after that searing hot kiss that her parents had walked in on...

Court was slightly more interesting in Seyruun than it was in Taforashia. The problems that faced the country here were on a larger scale, and there were many more courtiers. Often, the court would be dismissed early in Taforashia due to sheer lack of things to discuss. Such was not the case in Seyruun, where petitions were often backlogged for days. There was always some work that had to be done, somewhere.

These days the work mostly centered around arrangements between the wedding of Pokota and Azalia. Carrier pigeons sent instructions back and forth. Pokota was a little uncomfortable at the scale the wedding had grown to - it was going to be huge, with hundreds of formally invited guests and thousands more informal attendees from both kingdoms. Taforashia was unable to bear the entire burden of cost, so Seyruun had opened its coffers and was contributing half of the expenses as well.

Still, Azalia and Pokota, though they were the stars of the show, were not much involved in it, other than deciding what colors they wanted (ivory and dark green), and what music the Taforashian orchestra was to play during the ceremony. As such, both of them were quite surprised when King Philionel called them to petition him at the throne one day.

"Come forth, Prince Posel and Princess Azalia," he said, his loud booming voice breaking through their faint boredom. They glanced at each other, and then approached the throne and knelt wordlessly.

King Phil continued. "We have some distressing news."

"What, your majesty?" Azalia asked, maintaining the formal tone of the court. King Phil was free to drop honorifics as he chose, but so long as they were addressing him in public, they had to be proper.

"For hundreds of years, the weddings of Seyruun have been sanctified with a holy scepter. Your mother and father were married with it, and so was I and my wife... It is a precious artifact for our country, and in order for your marriage to be official, you must be married with it." He drummed his fingers on his throne, looking rather annoyed about something.

"But...?" Azalia prompted.

"It's missing."

Pokota blinked. "What?" he asked before he could catch himself.

Azalia was also nonplussed. "How could you lose something that important?"

King Phil coughed. "Well... er. We sent it off to be cleaned and it was lost in the mail." Next to him, Amelia sighed and looked sad, while Zelgadis looked... well, he was as expressionless as always. His stony countenance had remained even when he had gotten his human body back.

"Can't we just make a new one?" Azalia asked, looking quite concerned.

Pokota was concerned too. "Or use another one instead? I'm sure Seyruun has hundreds of scepters in the temples, and Taforashia may have a suitable replacement as well."

King Phil shook his head. "It's quite valuable. Silver and sapphire encrusted. We'd like to retrieve it before we give up hope and craft a new one. "

At the mention of "silver" and "sapphires," The Collector flared up within Azalia.

Pokota whispered,"I know that look in your eyes, sweetie. I don't think your grandfather would let you have it even if it did turn up."

The hint of The Collector died down almost immediately. She pouted. "Meanie! But you're right."

King Phil cleared his throat to stop the whispering from all the courtiers including the two youngsters before him. "Ahem. We sent it to a country over the old Mage's barrier, where they had reputable silversmiths... or so we were told. We still have a contact there, over the barrier. You will have to travel over the ocean and seek her out, and ask for her aid in finding the scepter."

Azalia's head perked up. "Travel?"

Pokota blinked again. "Ocean?" He'd never been able to travel on the ocean before, aside from short wacky hijinks with Lina Inverse & Company.

King Phil smiled at their obvious interest. "The boat journey is only a few days. We'll send you along with a crew. After that, however you will have to journey alone across land to reach her."

Azalia pumped her fist into the air. "YES! AN ADVENTURE!"

"I'm not so sure about the ocean..." Pokota thought of the endless horizon, the waves below. It reminded him too much of the soul sucking void he'd experienced when Azalia transferred his body from the stuffed animal to his current form.

"Her name is Filia Ul Copt. Give her this letter." Azalia stood up and walked the few feet to her grandfather, who handed her a letter sealed with the official stamp of Seyruun. "You can also present her a wedding invitation; I'm sure she'd be delighted to join us." The king's serious expression had melted back to his default joviality. He was looking forward to the wedding of his oldest grandchild as much as Pokota's father was.

"And tell her that Amelia and Zelgadis say hi!" Amelia piped up, also smiling now.

"Hmph," Zelgadis added, looking away.

After the court session ended, the two teenagers walked back toward the living quarters. Servants had already been dispatched to pack up their traveling packs. Azalia preferred to travel light - on her first big adventure to Taforashia, she'd made the mistake of not bringing any changes of clothes, and had to order a new wardrobe when she got there. This time, she made sure to tell the servants to pack enough to last a week between launderings.

Pokota fingered the heavy vellum of the letter. Seyruun used that method of correspondence for all their most important requests. "Filia Ul Copt... what an unusual name."

Azalia stared at the letter with him for a moment, then smacked her forehead as she remembered. "Oh, I know her! She's a golden dragon."

Pokota looked at her, surprised. "Really? I thought they were all killed off in the war a thousand years ago."

Azalia nodded. "She's one of the last remaining ones... I'm not sure of the whole story, but my parents and Lina Inverse and Gourry Gabriev helped her save the world." She grinned suddenly. "She's married to Xellos, whom I know you've met."

And the world stopped.

"Wait... WHAT? _Married!_" The thought of the trickster mazoku - sometimes an enemy, sometimes a friend - actually acting human enough to get married... it was took much for Pokota. He scrunched his eyes closed and rubbed his face, waiting for his mind to start working again. Once it did, a question immediately surfaced. "You know Xellos?"

Azalia grinned. "They _are_ family friends."

Body and mind reunited, Pokota started walking again, and Azalia fell back into step with him.

"Now I'm really curious as to what sort of golden dragon would willingly consort with a Mazoku..." Pokota mused.

"It's complicated, apparently." Azalia looked off in the distance. "Xellos said they exist in a state known as 'the island of awesome.' I'm not sure what that means, but when I asked my mother she said it was a very unladylike term."

Pokota didn't know what it meant either. "I see."

Azalia took his hand briefly and squeezed it. " Well, I'm going to get my traveling bag packed up, and so should you. This could take us a few weeks, although Mother said if we can't find it within the month to head on back and they'll just commission a new one."

He looked at her, suddenly glad to be having another adventure with her after all. "See you shortly." He kissed her on the cheek, ever mindful of the guards around them who would love to snitch on them to her overbearing father.

* * *

The boat journey across the ocean to the barrier to the Outerworld was actually only a few days, just as King Phil had predicted. The magic barrier that had separated their continent from the rest of the world had been gone for decades, but they still referred to it as "their" world and the Outerworld.

After they docked at one of the main seaports that lined the coast of their shared ocean, Azalia and Pokota were set loose by the crew. The port town was small, and after they had rented horses from a stable, they found themselves outside the city gates - and truly alone - in almost no time.

Pokota looked around at the bare desert and scrub land. The winter weather barely affected this region - it was warm enough for them to not have to wear their usual heavy cloaks.

"So this is the Outerworld," he said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Yeah, it's not as exciting as I thought," Azalia agreed. In the distant horizon, a few houses and farms dotted the road. "It's pretty much just like our world. But people here can't use magic that easily."

"Really?" Pokota had never left the old continent within the barrier, not even during his search for Rezo. The world was just too large once you left the continent.

"It's something to do with the barrier... and also something Rezo the Red Priest called 'founder's effect.' "

"What's that?"

Azalia smiled, always glad to share knowledge. She would have been a good teacher. "Well, the first people who were trapped within the barrier during the war were all high level magicians." She raised one finger to illustrate her point.

"Ah, so all their descendents were strong magicians as well." That made sense.

"Right! And they were able to be discovered and trained, and so bred more and more stronger wizards."

He saw where she was going with that line of reasoning. "So out here, many magicians with potential go undiscovered, and so very few wizards marry each other and have wizard children."

She nodded. "The bloodline is diluted. That's it, in a nutshell. It's a pity, too."

They talked about many things, going from one tangent to another, sometimes losing the thread of conversation and having to backtrack. It was so easy to just talk with Azalia - to float along with her as thoughts crossed her mind.

The hours flew by, and before too long, the winter sky began to darken and the air cooled. Although the temperature wasn't nearly as cold here as it was in their homeland, they were still far enough from the equator to be affected by the season.

"It's getting late," Pokota said, stating the obvious to nudge Azalia into thinking about it. "We should probably try to find an inn at the next town."

Azalia blinked and looked around at the sky, which had started to fade from blue to lavender around the edges. "You're right."

The next town turned out to be not too far down the road. It wasn't much compared to Seyruun, or even Taforashia, but it was still a real village, and there were several inns to choose from. They went to the nicest looking one - they _were_ royalty, after all - and went up to the old man at the counter. The inn had a tavern attached, and it was filled with a boisterous dinner crowd.

Adventure. No matter what you were doing or who you were doing it with, at some point you always ended up in a tavern.

The innkeeper was portly and friendly. He acknowledged them with a nod as he continued to polish a glass. "Welcome, young travelers! May I help you?"

"Two rooms and dinner in the private dining room, please." Pokota placed several gold coins down on the counter, more than enough to pay for what he had asked for.

The man paused in the act of drying the glass. He stared at the coins. "I can arrange dinner," he said after a moment, "but I'm afraid we've only got one room available for tonight."

Pokota and Azalia looked at each other, suddenly blushing. "Oh," Azalia squeaked.

Pokota too struggled for words. "I suppose we can..." he managed to say.

Azalia recovered her voice, but she was burning crimson. "I mean, we're engaged, it's all right for us to share a room, isn't it?" She laughed nervously.

"Technically speaking..." Pokota glanced around the room, wondering if anyone was listening to their conversation besides the smirking innkeeper.

"And my parents and Lina and Gourry were always sharing a room!" Azalia continued to try to justify it to herself.

Pokota thought back to the time he had stayed with them in an inn. That had not been the case. "Well, not quite, they always rented two rooms and went boys in one room, girls in the other."

"Oh.." Azalia said, looking a bit disappointed at that tidbit. What had she imagined _happening?_ She shook her head, as if clearing out her thoughts. "But still. We don't have a choice!"

Pokota sighed. She was right about that. "One room will be fine." He left the coins there on the counter, however. The innkeeper nodded and took them in a practiced swipe. No names were recorded - travelers always enjoyed anonymity in their world. Gold was all the formality you needed.

"All right," the man said, and handed them a plain key. "You can take your things upstairs, and we'll have dinner ready for you in a short time."

Dinner, it turned out, was delicious. Seyruun's castle food was just so... so... healthy. Vegetables and fish and fruit and rice and carefully prepared and arranged dishes. Here, they had fat roasted partridges stuffed with cheeses and spinach and served with hot biscuits and gravy. Although he didn't use high level magic as much as he did during the Lost Decade, his teenager's body had the metabolism of a squirrel, and he'd had trouble building up any real mass in Seyruun. He tore into the dinner, and Azalia did the same. It wasn't quite a meal on the scale of Lina Inverse vs Gourry Gabriev, but it was definitely a meal for them to remember.

Afterward, they trudged back upstairs, where they had dropped off their packs without really looking inside the room before.

They stared at the room, and the giant, singular object in the center of it.

"So," Azalia said, unable to tear her eyes away.

"One bed."

"We should have realized..." She looked chagrined. When he said the inn had one room available, they had assumed that meant just sharing a room... not a bed too.

Pokota sighed and walked to the couch, where he started to pull pillows off it."You can have it Azalia, I can sleep on the floor."

Azalia shook her head violently. "No, no it's fine. I think we can both fit."

Pokota looked at her pointedly. "That's not the issue at hand..."

Azalia crossed her arms, looking at him right back. "We're engaged, right? We can share a bed for one night without raising any eyebrows."

He still hesitated. "But.."

Azalia summoned every inch of authority she could muster and pointed at the bed, her index finger shining with generations of justice. "Posel Korba Taforashia, get in that bed this instant!"

She then burst out laughing. "Oh my, I sounded just like Mother." Pokota couldn't help but chuckle too as he caved in and climbed onto the bed, above the covers, wearing his clothes... afraid to change to his pajamas.

She joined him on the other side of the massive bed, still erupting into giggles every few moments.

"Noisy," he jokingly complained, and poked her. The simple contact caused them both to fizzle, and he pulled away immediately. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the thought of looking at her and being unable to touch her.

She smirked at him, knowing how he felt... even as she felt the same. "Now who's the one thinking bad thoughts?" she teased.

Pokota sighed and chose the route of honesty. "I want to kiss you good night, but I'm afraid of what kind of good night kiss it will turn into."

"Pokota..." She said his nickname on a breathy whisper. "It is okay. Really. I love you. Plenty of married couples have shared beds before their vows."

Those words hung heavy in the air. He opened his eyes again. Sharing a bed, with all the meaning the phrase entailed.

He was quiet when he spoke, his voice thick. "Yes, but we've been... we have been trying to behave."

"Not that we have much choice in the castle," Azalia muttered darkly. "Daddy put guards in front of my door!"

Pokota struggled to put his feelings into words. "And yet they sent us off together, knowing something like this could happen. I don't want to violate their trust."

Azalia snorted and crossed her arms impatiently. "They're my parents, and I can violate their trust all I want to." Then she leaned across the bed and grabbed him by the shirt. "Kiss me, you silly stuffed animal."

That was the end of any reservations he had. They melted away as she sighed beneath his mouth. He leaned up on his elbow for better leverage, and while one part of his mind was screaming that _this was not okay_ and he was going to screw it up somehow, another part of his mind recognized that the voice belonged to the part of him that was still ten, and certainly not the part of him that was over forty.

But it was the teenaged body that was firmly in the driver's seat right now, and he let one of his hands slowly wander up her arm and to her shirt. There was the great bounty - Azalia was as well endowed as any Seyruun princess, and even relatively shapeless mage robes couldn't hide the generous curves underneath her shirt.

Somehow, he managed to undo the buttons one handed.

He glanced down, expecting to see magely underthings hiding beneath her tunic.

What he saw was most definitely not underwear.

His eyes widened in horror and he leaped back from her to the other side of the bed again, breaking the kiss suddenly, staring at her open shirt in open mouthed terror.

"What the hell!"

Azalia looked at him in innocent confusion. "What? What's wrong?" She sat up, her shirt falling open in a seductive move, which should have bared her chest to full view.

Instead, there was the golem face of her father, like a crude cartoon, _censoring_ her. It was spinning around in circles, the familiar scowl carved in stone, the blank eyes spinning in circles within the poorly drawn face.

Pokota covered his eyes, trying desperately to erase the vision from his mind. "Zelgadis!" he hissed. "He's on your breasts!"

Azalia's voice dropped twenty degrees. " ... _What?"_

A faint voice caught Pokota's attention. "Can you hear him?"

The voice of Zelgadis was scratchy and tinny, as if it were being transmitted over a distance. " ..can see me and hear this message, then you have attempted to anticipate your wedding vows. Shame on you, Pokota. Shame on you, Azalia. This is a chastity curse. The only way to properly break this curse is with an official marriage and vows sworn before witnesses. Until then, I will appear each time. If you can see me and hear this message...

Pokota, his hands still over his eyes, said softly, "Button your shirt Azalia."

She did so quickly, and the horrible voice stopped. Only then did he dare to look at her again.

She was the normal, pretty Azalia he remembered. Zelgadis's terrifying visage was gone.

"I... I feel violated." She put her face in her hands and started to cry. "Oh Daddy, why!"

Pokota reached out to hug her gingerly, but the curse seemed to only appear when she attempted to disrobe in his presence. "I think it's only going to do that when I'm in the room with you. You haven't seen that before, have you?"

Azalia shook her head. "I couldn't see it this time, but I could hear it. Talk about creepy!"

Pokota frowned, thinking some very unkind thoughts about the Prince Consort of Seyruun. "We've got to get that curse off you."

Azalia sniffled into his chest. "Well, on our wedding day... but that's not until late spring!" she wailed, and broke into fresh sobs.

A plan was beginning to from in his mind. "Who says we have to wait until then to get married?" he said slowly.

"Uh, Seyruun custom which says I have to get married in Taforashia?" she said miserably.

He shook his head gently. "Try again! _Nobody_." He kissed her forehead. "We can renew our vows then, but we can just elope for now."

Azalia looked up at him, comprehension dawning on her tear stained face. "Oh! Of course. Any official marriage should do!"

"We'll talk to the innkeeper tomorrow and see where we can actually... go about that." He reached up to stroke her hair gently, and then looked down at the bed, with its blankets rather rumpled from their earlier smooch session. "But in the meantime..."

She nodded miserably. "We can sleep together without... doing anything, I guess."

They slipped under the covers, Pokota extinguishing the candle with a softly spoken spell.

Azalia was there, oh so tempting, curled into his arms. But they could go no further. The wrath of Zelgadis had reached them, even across the ocean.

This was going to be one of the hardest nights of his life.

* * *

Neither of them slept well. The night was long and agonizing.

They trudged downstairs the next day, their light luggage in tow, and ordered breakfast from the innkeeper. The meal was silent - what could they say? It was only after they had finished and were about ready to leave that Pokota mustered up the courage to speak with the innkeeper.

"Excuse me... we were wondering if.. well..." He cleared his throat, trying to find the words.

Azalia finished his thoughts in a hurry. "We'd like to get married. As soon as possible."

The innkeeper's eyebrows shot up and he gave the two young people in front of him a definite Look. "Really, now," was all he said.

Azalia and Pokota were both bright crimson. "It... it's not what you think! We've just decided that we don't want to wait until the spring, when our official marriage will take place..." he stuttered.

Azalia immediately chimed in as well. "So we're looking for a temple, or anyplace that does elopement marriages."

The old man smirked, but his eyes twinkled and Pokota had a feeling he didn't quite believe them.

"Well, if an elopement is what you're after, there's a village on the other side of our border with Adzel called Gritna Gren. By tradition and custom, all blacksmiths there can perform marriages, so that's where all the runaway teenagers go for their weddings."

Runaway teens? Is that what he thought they were?

"Sounds perfect!" Azalia chimed. "Even though we're not really runaways."

Pokota nodded to him and then grabbed a map off the counter. "Thank you kindly, sir."

Gritna Gren was a brief ride away. They arrived before the sun had reached noon, and entered one of the many blacksmith shops nervously. The blacksmith was a large man wearing an apron, burly and jovial. He reminded Pokota of King Philionel. In fact... he looked suspiciously almost exactly like the king of Seyruun. But, there was no way...

Pokota cleared his throat as they crossed the threshold from the bright exterior to the cool, dim shop. The blacksmith ignored him, continuing to hammer away his forge.

"Excuse me," Pokota said, and the man looked up at them, his beady eyes flashing in the light from the fires. "We'd like to get married. "

Azalia also was nervous and quiet. "We were told you can do that here."

The blacksmith set down his work, and stretched for a few moments, letting out an enormous yawn. Pokota felt guilty for breaking his concentration. "Yes sir and yes'm. Come back this way."

"I've never been inside a blacksmith's shop before," Azalia said, looking around the inside of the building now that her eyes were adjusting to the lack of light. "Oh, he's a farrier... is that a lucky silver horseshoe?"

The Collector stared at the small silver shoe that was hung from the wall, staring at it hungrily, probably envisioning what it would look like on her walls in the castle of Seyruun.

Pokota grabbed her elbow and shook her out of it. "Now is not the time, Azalia!"

She blinked a few times and returned to normal with a sigh.

The blacksmith had directed them to a corner of the shop, where a prop forge was set up. Cheap gold paint had once adorned it but it was flaking off, exposing the slag iron beneath. A brass hammer lay on top, and next to it, a leather bound book sat on a table with an ink quill next to it.

The blacksmith directed them the book. "Just sign your names here and we'll conduct the ceremony promptdue, post haste, fast-celery."

The two teenagers froze, and then looked at one another.

"Names... " Pokota resisted the urge to slap his forehead. They were royalty - their family names were clearly the same name as their countries of origin. There was no way on the planet they could sign their real names into the registry, and if they signed fake names, it could cause the curse to not break because it wouldn't count as "official."

Azalia brought her fist to her mouth in a timid gesture. "Um, do we _have_ to sign our names? "

How could one book be so terrifying? The book was open, and there were lots of excited signatures on the lines that were filled in. Many couples had been married here.

The blacksmith gave them a strange look. "Of course you have to sign your names, otherwise it's not official."

That was it exactly then.

Azalia squirmed. "Can't we just use our initials or something? We sort of want to keep this a secret."

The gruff man that looked much like her grandfather shook his head. "Sorry, it's got to be your full names. Has been that way for hundreds of years, for untold generations, for all time."

Pokota sighed and started to turn away. "We'll... get back to you on that.," he said, and tugged Azalia.

But she wouldn't budge, and when he turned back to look at her, The Collector was firmly in charge.

"I'll give you twice its weight in silver coins for that horseshoe," The Collector said, in a voice that would not be denied.

Hours later, they returned back to the inn, Azalia clutching her bounty - the silver horseshoe, and a certificate of authenticity she'd badgered out of the poor blacksmith. She loved things that were rare, but also preferred that those things be genuine. She could spot a fake vase in moments.

They walked up to the counter sheepishly, their mission a failure. He raised one eyebrow at their somber demeanor - a couple that had just gotten married should be joyful.

Pokota cleared his throat. "Hi again. Uh... that didn't work." The innkeeper said nothing.

"Is there any other place where we can get married in a hurry?" Azalia asked, holding her horseshoe up to her chest defensively.

"Didn't work, eh?" the innkeeper said after a few more moments of silence. "That's strange." He chewed on his cigar thoughtfully. "Gritna Gren is the closest, but if you travel two days south west to Los Vargos, then they have drive through wedding chapels there."

Pokota and Azalia immediately piped up in unison: "Thanks! "

* * *

Los Vargos was a long ways away, in the middle of the desert. They had to pack extra water for their horses as they traveled through the shimmering heat, and shed their winter cloaks for lighter options.

They finally reached Los Vargos late on the second day - a full fledged city built around a large, shimmering oasis in the dry desert. Street lights were lit up, and people stumbled around from restaurants to casinos.

Azalia analyzed it for a few moments. "Ah, this is a gambling and resort town."

Pokota, the country bumpkin, was mystified. "I've never heard of such a thing. " He stared at all the people around him, seemingly engaged solely in the business of pleasure. There was precious little housing, only large inns and hotels, saloons, and places to be entertained.

Azalia was less impressed. "There's one on the outskirts of the capital of Seyruun." She grinned. "Maybe I should take you there sometime."

Pokota shuddered. "I'll pass."

They tethered their horses in front of a water trough, and found a map posted on the street nearby.

"Let's see... according to the map the nearest wedding chapel should be right... there." Pokota pointed to a spot on the map that was only a few blocks away.

Azalia grabbed his hand, growing excited. "Let's go! "

* * *

The "drive through wedding chapel" turned out to be a very tiny church with a driveway around it. They were greeted at the front by a young lady dressed as a nun - maybe she was one, maybe she was an actor; there was no way to tell. A man dressed as a priest was driving an open air carriage with a team of white horses - waiting at standby to take couples through the arched veranda down the driveway.

The nun greeted them with a very serene smiled. "Welcome to the Drive Through Temple of Love! " she said modestly.

Azalia took a deep breath. "We want to get married."

"Right now," Pokota added, eying the veranda uneasily. Everything felt so fake to him.

The sister gave a tiny gesture to the chapel behind her, and then produced a small clipboard from a pocket in her robes. "Well, this is the right place! Just fill out these forms here, and we'll get you all taken care of." She handed the clipboard to Azalia, who glanced over the form and then sighed.

She handed it back to the greeter, blanked. "Can we not provide our names? It's sort of a secret..."

The nun shook her head. "Unfortunately that's a no, dear. All weddings here are legitimate marriages by the state, and in order to be officially recognized internationally, we must give you a real wedding certificate."

The dreaded word._ Official._

Pokota groaned into his hands. "Great... "

Azalia patted him on the shoulder. "Never mind, then..." she said to the nun, and they went to retrieve their horses and endure the two day journey back to the inn.

* * *

The innkeeper was less surprised to see them when they finally returned, exhausted and miserable.

"No good either?" he asked them sympathetically. Pokota shook his head.

"Well," the innkeeper said slowly, "there's a temple just down the street. They do weddings from time to time. It can't hurt to ask them."

Why hadn't he mentioned that location first before sending them halfway across the desert?

* * *

They waited until the next day - they both needed a good night's sleep after their desert adventure.

The temple was small and simple, a far cry from the ornate wedding chapel in Los Vargos. But the answer was the same from the temple priest.

"I'm sorry, we have to record everything we do in our books," he said. "For official purposes."

* * *

"Argh, why does everything have to be written down to be official?" Pokota muttered as they walked back to the inn.

The innkeeper waved to them as they entered the building. "No good? I just remembered, there's one more place to try. The monastery across the border in Maritania - they've done weddings as well."

Maritania was only a few hours away by boat. They took a ferry across the bay, and disembarked onto the sunny tropical island. They walked inside, and a monk greeted them.

Azalia explained the situation briefly, but the monk shook his head in sorrow. "Poor children, forced to flee in marriage in secrecy! Alas, all our marriages require your names to be signed before God in order to be official." He pointed to a giant scroll that was hanging on the wall in the foyer of the monastery, filled with signatures.

The two teenagers signed in unison.

* * *

They returned back to the inn once more.

The innkeeper saw them come in the door, but he had no more suggestions for them. "I'm fresh out of ideas. I'm sorry, kids."

Dejected, Azalia and Pokota headed upstairs to the room they had been renting all this time. It had been a week and they had gotten nowhere.

Azalia, in a rare display of frustration, ran over and kicked the bed. "Uuuurgh! This is so annoying! Why, daddy, why!"

Pokota hugged her from behind, calming her down a bit. "Because he loves you and wants to protect you," he said, trying to be positive about the whole thing.

Azalia pouted. "Horrible way of showing it."

"Let's just go to Filia Ul Copt," he said, not disagreeing with her. "Obviously, we're not going to find anyone who's willing to marry us around these parts, and we're just wasting time."

Azalia gritted her teeth. "You don't have an image of your father projecting out of your most intimate bits!"

Pokota tried another tactic. "Isn't Filia a holy priestess? Maybe she knows a way to remove the curse."

Azalia brightened up. "True! Or... maybe she could conduct the marriage herself!"

"That's it! But... will she?" He thought of the mysterious priestess he'd yet to meet who might be able to provide them leads on the missing artifact. "Your mother said she is a very pious person."

Azalia's lips twitched. "I think her piety may have been greatly exaggerated. I was too young to really get to know her, though." She took a deep breath. "We can always ask, can't we? And the sooner we find this stupid artifact, the sooner we can try to strong arm our parents into moving up the wedding."

* * *

The directions to Filia's house were clear. She lived in a small, normal looking village, with perhaps a thousand or so human residents that clearly had no idea a mythical dragon lived in their midst - or if they knew, they didn't care. Pokota and Azalia drew curious looks, but no hostility, as they rode through the main street of the town on rented horses.

They paused at the fifth building down from an intersection, which was pink and nondescript. A large yard stretched out behind it, with a giant brick kiln rising up just above the roof of the house.

Pokota read the sign in front of the building. "' Filia's Vases & Maces.' This must be it. What an odd combination..."

Azalia shrugged as she dismounted her horse. "Not really. If it's a stone mace, the casting process is the same as other earthenware. And the cast iron process is similar as well." Pokota dismounted as well, and they tied their horses to the post outside the building intended for that purpose.

"Wouldn't a cast mace be brittle? I thought they were all made of metal."

"It depends on the process. A solid earthenware club with steel or rebar support can be very strong, too."

Pokota had learned to trust Azalia's opinion on material strength. She was usually right.

"Well, let's go inside." He opened the door for her, and then stepped inside the building himself. As his eyes adjusted to the dim interior from the bright light outside, he began to see shelves and shelves filled with beautiful vases, a stark contrast to the maces that lined the visible walls. It was definitely a jarring combination.

A pretty blonde lady stood behind the main counter. She gestured invitingly to her customers.

"Greetings, how may I help you?" She then squinted her eyes and stared at Azalia. "...Princess Amelia? No..."

Azalia grinned. "No, I'm Azalia dis Morgan Seyruun. I've often been told I look like my mother." She walked to the counter, and handed the dragon one of Seyruun's formal envelopes. "Here, this is a letter for you from her."

Filia placed her hands on her cheeks, her eyes sparkling in delight. "Oh, you are just the spitting image! How _adorable_. You've grown at least two feet since I saw you last." She recovered, and set the letter down on the counter. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Azalia." She curtsied formally, and then turned to Pokota. "And you are..?"

Pokota bowed slightly, feeling a little awed at meeting a real dragon. "I am Prince Posel Korba Taforashia, ah, but everyone calls me Pokota." He said the last a little sheepishly - he didn't mind his nickname, but some people thought it was strange he willingly went by it.

Azalia touched his arm, a little possessively. "He is my fiance," she said with a giant, ear-splitting grin on her face.

Filia looked taken aback, and blushed ever so faintly. "Congratulations! ...already though? You were just born a little over a decade ago!"

"It's not uncommon for humans," Azalia said. "Especially nobility..."

Filia still looked a bit confused, but she decided not to pursue it. "Ah... so it is. Well, give me a moment to read this." She picked up the letter again. "Feel free to look around the shop."

That was all the permission Azalia needed. She practically floated over to the wall of maces, and jabbed repeatedly at one of the reinforced earthenware and rebar pieces that were on the highest level, indicating their strength and durability. Then she turned to the first shelves of vases, and her jaw dropped.

" ...This is!" She picked up one delicate teacup from the shelf and examined the bottom. "A genuine Ulcopt tea set!" she cried, then finally added up a few things in her mind. "Oh, of course - that's _your_ remarque!" She waved the teacup in the air in Filia's general direction.

Filia paused from reading the letter to acknowledge Azalia. "Am I that famous? Glad to hear it." The dragon returned to the letter, but she was distracted by Azalia jumping from point to point in the room, crying as she discovered new collectibles she was no doubt plotting to get her mitts on somehow.

Pokota just leaned back against the front of the counter, watching her.

"Oh and this is a Gibraltar vase!" Azalia held up a new treasure. "And a Mung Dynasty pot. And ... this is..."

The dragon gave up on reading the letter and turned to Pokota. "Is she always like this?" she whispered.

Pokota answered in a low voice as well. "Only when she sees things she likes."

"Can't you... stop her?"

Pokota gave a genuine smile of affection as he watched The Collector at work. "Why would I want to?" was his answer.

Azalia was finally done. "All right, I'll take all of these." She pointed to a small pile of expensive china (and a few maces) that she had made in front of one of the bookshelves. "And have them shipped to Seyruun..." she caught herself midway, "no, to the palace of Taforashia."

Filia eyed the stack of merchandise nervously. "Thank you for your patronage... I think."

Pokota said, "She saves all of her allowance for this. Notice she wears no jewels? It all goes to her collection."

Azalia rejoined them, and patted her fiance's arm. "I'll fall in love with some jewelry one of these days. Now, have you read Mother's letter, Miss Filia?"

Filia sighed heavily. "Yes. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how much help I can be... I'm not in the business of trading jeweled scepters. The silversmiths guild that was supposed to clean it went under several years ago, probably because they used an inferior shipping company. I really don't have any leads to give you."

Azalia was clearly disappointed. "I see. Well, it was worth a try. We have another dilemma ... a personal problem, if you will. Maybe you can help us with that."

Filia set the letter aside. "What sort of problem?

Azalia grimaced and looked away. "My father put a ... curse on me."

"Zelgadis? What sort of curse?" Filia looked surprised, and mildly horrified.

"An... um. A celibacy curse..." Azalia winced, her face turning bright red. It wasn't easy talking about wanting to have sex with someone who was friends with your parents, apparently.

Pokota picked up for her. "The only way to break it is by getting married. And our marriage isn't for four months, because of the weather..."

Filia was also blushing rather deeply. "Oh. Um. How... inconvenient."

"We have to get married by a priest in an official marriage," Azalia explained, recovering. "Unfortunately, all the elopement places require us to write down our names."

"I can just see the tabloid covers in a week..," Pokota muttered darkly. Eldest Seyruun princess elopes! Global scandal from the next generation of leaders!

Filia clucked sympathetically, and leaned onto her elbows on the counter, her chin resting on her hands. "That_ is _a problem. I wish I could help, but I never finished my priestess training. I don't know how to perform a wedding ceremony."

"It's okay," Pokota said with a sigh. "We'll make it... somehow. If only we knew a priest who could be discreet about the whole thing..."

"Did someone call for a priest?" A voice called from behind them. As one, the two royals and a dragon turned to a doorway off to one side, where a familiar demon stood, his face smirking in his default expression.

"Xellos! How long were you lurking about?" Filia snapped, the gentle shopkeeper disappearing only to be replaced with an angry wife. Pokota and Azalia watched her, fascinated.

Xellos was honest. "About five seconds, dear. I only come when called. Who are our guests?"

Filia forced herself to calm down, and she gestured to the two teens.

"This is Princess Azalia, Zelgadis and Amelia's daughter," she said, affecting a bored tone. "I would have thought you of all people could have recognized her."

"Ah! We've met." He held up his index finger, and grimaced a bit. "I could detect that justice rich odor from ten miles away. "And you..." he turned to Pokota, and his eyes opened, revealing the slitted vision of the true demon beneath the trickster's exterior. "You're Posel Korba Taforashia." Xellos stared at him intently for a moment, then snapped his eyes shut again. "Nice new body you have there," he said brightly. Pokota got the impression that he had seen much deeper than just the exterior body.

"Thanks. I think."

Xellos crossed his arms casually. "So why do you need a priest?"

"We're trying to get married," Azalia said, a little timidly again. She had clearly never seen Xellos with his eyes open before; it was an unnerving sight.

"Ahhhh," Xellos said on a long drawn out note. Then just as suddenly, he asked, "Why?"

Pokota took Azalia's hand. "Well, we're already engaged. And we're going to have a big wedding ceremony in Taforashia in the spring."

Azalia put her other hand on her face, ashamed. "But my father put a curse on me..."

"Hmmmm!" Now it was Azalia's turned to undergo a multidimensional scrutinizing scan from Xellos. The Mazoku took a few steps toward her, and tugged on his chin thoughtfully. After a long moment, he spoke again. "Zelgadis constantly surprises me. That's quite a curse all right. I wonder where he picked that up... "

Pokota gave the priest a desperate look. "Can you help us, Xellos? Can you conduct an official wedding ceremony?"

Filia objected. "But he's a _Mazoku_ priest!"

"But that's still a priest, right? The curse just said " 'an official ceremony conducted by a priest.' "

"What would make it official here, though?" Pokota asked, not daring to get his hopes up. "Seems like a wedding in a china shop would be very unofficial."

Azalia looked thoughtfully at the maces on the wall. "Well, in Seyruun it just means it has to be conducted with the Scepter of Justice..."

"The one that is currently missing," Filia added, waving the letter. She looked at the letter again, and blinked. "Well, maybe _any_ old scepter would do in that case."

Xellos nodded. "I'm sure one of your decorative maces would be close enough. Let me go get one from your private collection." The demon disappeared in an instant, probably only teleporting a few dozen feet at most. It wasn't laziness, Pokota knew, but actually the most energy conserving way for him to travel.

Filia chewed on her bottom lip, obviously torn. "I don't know about this. You're supposed to wait until marriage, especially for royals.."

Azalia blushed again. "Well, we thought we could wait..."

Pokota shook his head and sighed. "We were wrong. And..." He paused, trying to put his feelings into words. "I don't like being bullied by Zelgadis. I know he wants the best for Azalia, but he's just too heavy handed. She's a strong woman who can make her own decisions." He looked down on the small girl beside him, and squeezed her hand.

"Posel," she said gently, and returned his look with her own.

"All right, all right," Filia said, waving her hands, trying not to grin at the young couple. "Cut it out before you give Xellos a stomachache and he changes his mind."

On cue again, Xellos re-apparated before them, holding up a giant silver mace. It was liberally sprinkled with gems. "Found one!"

"Oh, that's pretty. I'd forgotten about that one," Filia said, and reached out to touch the mace.

Azalia was also staring at the mace. "Wait a minute..," she said slowly, but she was interrupted by an enthusiastic demon.

"Let's do this quickly!" Xellos exclaimed. "All the lovey-dovey in this room is giving me a headache."

"Can you keep this a secret, Xellos?" Pokota asked seriously. "We don't want anyone to know."

Xellos grinned his widest grin. " If you're asking whether I can keep a secret, you obviously haven't spent enough time around me," he said merrily.

"Please," Pokota pleaded. "We don't want to cause any trouble for our countries..."

Xellos nodded firmly, and held up the hand without the mace in it, as if swearing before a judge. "I, Xellos Mazoku, will not tell anyone about this marriage until your formal wedding day."

Pokota breathed a sigh of relief. Xellos was not really a friend or even an ally, but he would never outright lie. "Thank you!"

Xellos was practically bouncing in place, holding the scepter in front of him like a wand. "'This is sort of fun. I've never been allowed to conduct a wedding before."

Azalia tried one more time. "Mr. Xellos, where did you get that mace?"

Xellos waved away her question, obviously in a hurry to enjoy this rare moment of glory for him. "From Filia's private collection, I said. Now, do you, Posel Korba Taforashia, take this woman to be your wife?

The two teenagers shuffled into a more appropriate position, facing the demon side by side, their hands still linked. "I do." Pokota squeezed Azalia's hand again.

"And do you, Azalia dis Morgan Seyruun, take this man to be your husband?"

"Oh, I do," she said earnestly.

"And so by the power invested in me by my creator, Beastmaster Zelas, I pronounce you man and wife. _Officially_. You may kiss - but try not to slobber too much, my headache is getting worse." He took a few steps away from them for good measure.

The two "official" newlyweds kissed each other tenderly, while Filia watched on with little hearts in her eyes.

"That was really sweet of you, Xellos," she said to her husband.

"You wound me, my dear Filia." He leaned in and whispered into her ear, "I only did it because I think thwarting Zelgadis is a _fantastic_ idea."

The hears in her eyes faded. "Of course..." she said with a sigh.

Azalia and Pokota broke their kiss. Pokota was already eager to find out whether their little ruse worked, but this was not the time or place for it. Later.

"May I see that mace?" Amelia asked, a little more insistently this time, a hint of The Collector bringing force to the request. Xellos handed it to her.

Filia looked at it thoughtfully as Azalia turned it over in her hands, her eyes examining it critically. "

"Someone sold that to me several years ago. I've never seen one quite like it," Filia explained. "It's really a bit too long and the balance is wrong for a proper club or mace. It's all for decoration, I'm sure."

Azalia shook her head, a tiny smile playing around her mouth. "That's because it's not a mace, Miss Filia. This is... a scepter!"

She held it up high, and it clicked for Pokota - it was a silver, diamond and sapphire encrusted scepter all right.

"You're kidding." He nearly wilted in relief. "This is what we were looking for?" At least they wouldn't go home empty handed.

"It seems so." Azalia brought her hand down again, and fingered the holy relic. "Miss Filia, will you be willing to sell this to us? This is the item we needed all this time."

Filia blinked, then nodded. "Oh! In that case, you can have it. I didn't pay that much for it." She waved her hand nonchalantly. "Consider it a wedding present."

Xellos opened his eyes one more time to stare at Azalia. "So is your curse broken?" he asked her. Pokota got the feeling that the Mazoku already knew the answer to that question, but he wasn't going to say anything to them about it.

"I don't know." Azalia clutched the scepter and stared at the ground. "I didn't even realize I was cursed until... well..."

Pokota cleared his throat. "Let's just say we need some privacy to determine the efficacy of the curse-breaking."

"Oh my," Filia covered her mouth to hide her smile. She turned to Xellos again. " In that case, perhaps we should let the newlyweds go their own way."

Azalia dug around in her sack, and handed the dragon another envelope, this one in gold. "Not just yet. This is an invitation for you, too. Our full wedding ceremony will be in four months. It got delayed because my mother is still indisposed and neither her or the baby are able to travel to Taforashia in winter. We are requesting both your presence, and Xellos, if you are able to come."

Filia accepted the invitation graciously. "We will be delighted to attend," she said brightly, and elbowed Xellos.

"Oh yes, I look forward to the wedding for sure!" the demon said, just as brightly.

Pokota gave them a genuine, grateful smile and bowed politely. "Thank you again," he said, and turned to Amelia, ready to return back to the inn and test whether the "marriage" worked. But she had a large sheet of vellum with a list of purchases she wanted to make, and he realized they weren't going any where for a while.

"Mrs. Filia, let me just go over the list of items... I've got to start thinking of how and where I'm going to store my collection in the castle. Pokota's room isn't big enough for even half of it." She put her hands on her cheeks in dismay at the thought.

"Hey!" Pokota felt himself turn bright red in embarrassment. The castle at Taforashia _was_ rather small. "We can move to a bigger room if that's really a problem," he said with a nervous laugh. But Azalia was ignoring him now, and The Collector was in full control, haggling over prices with Filia.

He sighed a happy sigh and watched her for a few moments, then shrugged and walked over to Xellos, who was eying the Seyruun royal suspiciously. The Mazoku acknowledged him with a flicker of a glance, and then slid his mask in place again; smiling for the world, hiding the true demon beneath.

Pokota spoke softly. "It's been over twenty years, Xellos. I never expected to see you again."

Xellos's smile became even wider, if that was possible. "Oh, I have a habit of turning up when you least expect it," he sang.

Pokota glanced over at the Mazoku's wife, who was just as engrossed as Azalia in the bargaining process. "I also... would not have imagined you to be the marrying sort."

"Filia is special," Xellos said with the Cheshire cat of all grins.

Pokota hesitated, but his curiosity forced him to keep digging. "Isn't... she holy? Doesn't she cause you pain?"

Xellos raised one eyebrow, clearly sensing the young prince's urge to probe. "Again, she's special. She's mad at me more often than not, anyway. Those maces aren't just for show!" Pokota got the sense that Xellos was trying to end this line of conversation, but he still pressed on.

"But... aren't you at war with the dragons?"

Now that finally woke the demon beneath. His eyes slitted open again, and he seemed to stare at his wife at the counter of the china shop, only he appeared to be looking beyond her. "That was a long time ago. For the moment, we are at peace."

"I see," Pokota said, although he didn't really understand it at all. Something else bubbled up in his mind. "And.. one more question. What is the 'Island of Awesome?' "

The Mazoku slipped behind the trickster's mask once more, and Xellos laughed merrily. "Now _that_ is a secret! A fairly dirty one too. You should forget you heard that term." His jovial mood returned, he clapped his hands together joyfully. "Now, my turn for twenty questions! How exactly did you turn back to a human? Your body was destroyed."

Pokota remembered that agonizing moment when Rezo, possessing his body, was annihilated. He did not like to think about that for long. "Azalia did it, using a technique invented by Zelgadis."

"How interesting! I may need to visit my old friends in Seyruun and see what they've been up to. That's some very advanced magic, there." Xellos materialized around him, poking him from various angles, and tugging on his hair. "It's a perfect Copy! I never thought they were possible to make. I think Zelgadis has rewritten a few chapters in the magic books."

"You'll see them at the wedding. Just don't breathe a word about this marriage... to them." He floundered near the end there for a moment.

Xellos placed one hand over his heart... or where a heart would be if he was a human being. "I'm a man of my word! I never lie and I never renege on a promise. Not a peep from me until your wedding day in Taforashia."

Pokota breathed a heavy sight of relief. "Thank you, Xellos."

"And that's my final offer!" Azalia slammed her hand on the counter, causing the two men to turn toward her.

Filia also slammed her hand on the counter. "Deal. I'll have everything shipped to Taforashia in time for your wedding." The hard bargaining now over, the dragon smiled at the princess. "Would you care to stay for tea?"

Xellos was the one to object. He walked over to Filia and casually placed his arm around her shoulders. "Now now Filia, they have some scientific experimentation they need to do. Please let me know if this was successful!" He waved to the youngsters, and Pokota gratefully dragged his new wife out of the china shop. "Thanks!" Pokota called behind his shoulder, waving back.

They reached the horses outside, and Azalia spent a few moments fiddling with the mace, trying to attach it to the pannier behind the saddle. "Well, there went half my savings, but I think it was worth it."

Pokota nodded. "And we got the scepter." He stared at the troublesome work of art.

Azalia finally got it anchored down to her satisfaction. "Yes! We'll make it back within the month deadline."

He looked at her, still amazed at his great fortune in finding her. "I can't wait for our wedding..."

Azalia grinned back at him. "Well, Pokota, if this marriage was official enough to break the curse, you won't have to. Let's head back to the port."

* * *

The innkeeper was polishing glasses when the two teenagers arrived back into town.

"Oh, welcome back you two. Did you ever find a place to get married?" he asked, his voice mildly curious.

Pokota blushed."Yes, we finally did. An old acquaintance took pity on us." That seemed the safest description for a Mazoku general-priest.

The innkeeper smiled and winked at them. "In that case, congratulations. I'll give you two our finest suite tonight." He reached under the bar and pulled out a highly ornate golden key, which he slid across the counter to Pokota. The prince took it wordlessly, and the two teenagers slunk away, their faces burning red.

Azalia finally spoke as they were climbing up the stares. "He _knows_ what we're going to do tonight," she hissed.

"Well, that's what newlyweds usually do," he replied, with a crack in his voice. He was getting nervous. What if their plan had failed? What if there was something else preventing them from going all the way this time?

The "best suite" was a large room, with gilded mirrors and silken drapes. It looked very, very expensive.

It was nice not to have to think about the cost of something like this, thanks to the generosity of the Seyruun coffers.

Azalia plopped down on the bed, at home in the luxury. "Much nicer than last time. I wonder if this was available when we first arrived? We should have asked."

The innkeeper had said only one room was available, but this room was probably not included in that total. It was probably reserved for visiting nobility... which they did qualify as. "Perhaps. It's the winter weather, no noble wants to travel while it's snowing." He sat gingerly next to her on the bed, surprised at the softness of the mattress. His heart was already pounding in his chest. He looked at her - all beautiful, petite rounded curves. She was not skinny, but instead had a healthy fitness to her despite her buxom body.

She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, even surpassing her mother in loveliness.

And she belonged to him.

Azalia smiled as she saw him staring at her. She gave the bed a tiny experimental bounce. "So... shall we test this out?"

Pokota swallowed hard and reached out to touch her shoulders, gently. He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, just so. Then he pulled back, and reached down to unbutton her shirt, his hands shaking.

_Please no Zelgadis this time please no Zelgadis this time..._

Once he had her blouse fully unbuttoned, he opened it up to reveal two large, pert breasts, bound in a lacy bra adorned with a ridiculous tiny bow in the center.

"Pokota?"

He could not take his eyes away. "Wow..." he breathed.

"Is my father's face still there?"

Pokota shook his head vigorously, his gaze never leaving the vision of heaven before him. "Most definitely not."

Azalia flung her hands into the air, causing her breasts to bounce with the movement. "Yay! The curse is broken!"

He swallowed hard. "I... I knew you were well endowed... but I never expected..."

Azalia smiled at him, her bright eyes beaming with justice. "Just shut up and kiss me."

* * *

The next morning the tumbled down the stairs into the private dining room, having not gotten much sleep but still full of energy despite it.

Pokota snagged a roll from the breadbasket as soon as the maid brought it out. "I'm famished," he said with a moan, sinking his teeth into the soft white bread.

Azalia giggled politely and whispered, "Well, we did exercise a lot last night."

Pokota blushed. "Yeah." He reached over and took her hand, thinking about their return journey... and the inevitable wait when they reached Seyruun again. "How are we going to ever get any privacy in the castle when we return?

Azalia squeezed his hand, also tearing into one of the rolls with gusto. "We'll think of something. We just have to be creative."

"What about... the laboratories in the temple? You have them in Seyruun as well, yes?" She nodded, her mouth full. "Surely we can justify going in there alone together, if we're working on an experiment."

When she had finished chewing, she agreed. "That's a thought. I was actually thinking more along the lines of broom closets in the castle proper, but your idea makes more sense."

"So what experiment can we work on? "

Azalia winked. "Easy. How many months can we sneak into there before someone catches on?" She laughed. "In all seriousness, I have quite a few experiments I can tinker with, and I'm sure you have a few things you can teach me too."

Now that much was true. "Ever learn how to cast a Dragon Slave?"

Several days later, they travel back to Seyruun, husband and wife in all senses.

* * *

**_Omake_**

After the youngsters left the shop, Filia set up tea for herself and Xellos. She was burning with curiosity.

"So tell me, how did you meet Prince Posel?" She poured him a cup of the steaming brew gracefully.

Xellos took his cup and leaned back in his chair, recounting the memories. "Ah, well at the time he was a stuffed animal, but it was when we were trying to stop the Silver Beast Zannaffar from wrecking Seyruun."

Filia tried to remember that instance as well, and suddenly she remembered it _very_ clearly. Twenty years ago. "Oh... that time you left me for _four months straight_ to go adventuring?"

Xellos protested now, as he had then. "I was saving the world!"

"I still don't believe you. I didn't believe it then, and I didn't believe it now." She huffed.

Xellos pretended to act grievously wounded. "I never lie. I'm the picture of innocence."

Filia snorted this time. Her default annoyed sounds were always dragon noises. "Hmmph." She peered at him from under veiled eyelids. "Why did you agree to marry them? You usually only do something if you have a gain out of it."

"I felt sorry for them. That's a horrible curse to be under." He shuddered.

"What exactly was the curse anyway?"

Xellos tapped his cheek with his finger, trying to figure out the best way to explain it. "I'm surprised you didn't know about chastity curses. Every time a male looks upon the naked female flesh, a vision of something ...deflating... appears. In this case, it appears it was Zelgadis himself."

Filia blanched. "That's awful!"

Xellos looked distinctly green as his imagination ran wild. "Imagine if any time I looked at you, Juoh-sama appeared... "

Filia's temper disappeared as quickly as it had appeared earlier, and she smiled gently at him. "Well, it appears you're getting soft in your old age."

Now it was his turn to be offended. "Old? I'm in the prime of my life!" He thumped his chest. "I'm not even five thousand years old yet!"

"Really?" Filia teased him. "So am I part of your midlife crisis, then?"

Xellos took that ball and ran with it. "That's definitely one way of putting it!"

Filia tackled. "You're still getting soft."

Xellos fumbled and caved. "I'm a trickster. It seemed like the right thing for me to do." He sighed heavily, and then turned the full force of his grin upon her. "And I'm not getting soft _or_ old."

She took a prim sip of tea, then said after a moment, "Prove it."

Xellos waggled his eyebrows at her."Lets go upstairs, and I will."

And before she could protest, he snatched her teacup, set it down on the table, grabbed her bodily out of the chair, swung her into his arms, and carried her upstairs to do just that.


End file.
